Tabula Rasa
by TheClumsyHero
Summary: ta·bu·la ra·sa (noun) an absence of preconceived ideas or predetermined goals; a clean slate. When Chell finds an injured man on her way home from work, she is more than displeased to find it is an old acquaintance and one who just so happens to have a new view on human life due to his own precarious situation. (Human Wheatley)
1. The Reunion

A pair of feet slowly found themselves shuffling down the pavement. Exhaustion gnawed at her very being with each step, but there would be no stopping her walk now, and even if the feeling was relentless she most certainly didn't show it; there was a particular place she could thank for that. It was yet another long day at work, not that she could particularly complain. The owners of that little hardware store were saints; if it had not been for them the female didn't know where she would be right now. Though, these long shifts were most certainly taking a toll on the woman. Having to come in a few hours early to move supplies and leaving a few hours later wasn't what she signed up for, and as of late, it left her beyond tired while she dragged herself home after her shift. She had begun to debate whether or not she should simply give in and purchase a vehicle; it would make these treks home after such a long day much easier, but it would also rob her of the pleasure she did receive from these strolls.

Chell had always enjoyed walking to and from work each day. It was such a peaceful time and one that she tried not to take for granted. There were many things that the outside world offered her that just wouldn't be the same had she experienced it from a moving automobile. The sounds of birds chirping, dogs howling and even the occasional chattering were all always such appreciated sounds and ones that put her nerves at ease. They reminded her of where exactly she was, and a few years back, made her feel safer than any place on earth. Besides, she could always use the exercise, and it was nice getting some fresh air rather than waste her time sitting around all day. Not that sitting down in the evening or on weekends and reading was particularly a waste of time, but either way, a car would rob her of that experience and it wasn't something she would be so eager to give up. That, and she also found a certain aversion to technology. It had been that way ever since she had entered the surface and found herself in this quaint town. It wasn't that she didn't own anything technological, or was ignorant to the various uses; she just simply didn't care for it. Chell was happy with the dinosaur of a phone in her pocket, and the various paperback books that littered her shelves at home. While she would occasionally receive some odd looks, she simply ignored them. Chell always had been odd, she never quite fit in here, but she had quickly learned how to shrug such things off.

A sigh left parted lips as her gaze slowly panned upward, studying the colorful evening sky. It seemed like it had been ages ago that she had stumbled upon this town. She was so lost, so very scared and she still could clearly remember the worried gazes she received from these, now neighbors but at the time, strangers. For so long a time she had been so jumpy, always on edge. A couple in their mid-fifties had graciously offered their home to her, but they were still wary, as was everyone else. They always questioned why she was so quiet, why everything set her nerves on end; they wanted to know why she couldn't be _normal._ Of course Chell wanted to tell her story, tell someone of what she had seen—tell anyone but it just wasn't an option. With time her nerves calmed, and her speech even returned but she still used that very sparingly. That was nearly three years ago; now she had a small one-story house, she had a job and a life, she had nearly let go of all that had happened to her all that time ago. But the impression she left on this town stayed. She received smiling faces and kind gestures, but she knew they weren't all genuine. She couldn't particularly let it get to her, though. Who cared what some people thought of her? All that mattered was that she was _free_ and that she had a life now. No amount of petty gossip or strange looks could change that for her.

Chell had been pulled from this train of thought when her vision returned to the sidewalk in front of her, and met with the distant figure of a man, making his own way down the designated path. His appearance was concerning, to say the least—from what she could tell he had been bandaged up quite a bit, but that wasn't what really caught her attention. The way he was limping was what caused for some concern. There wasn't anything visible, per say, but he didn't look too well off either and she knew there may have been something hidden underneath the clothes he wore that was obstructing her view. She found her legs slowly coming to a halt as she took in this man, and more importantly, as the gears in her head began to turn.

As she stood motionlessly, Chell felt an internal struggle taking hold of her. Yes, he looked like he was in need of some assistance, but did he actually want it? She knew how independent some people were, and for all she knew he was new to the town and on a nightly walk. The truth was that she just didn't have the patience to deal with this man on the off chance that he didn't, in fact, want any assistance and was just trying to take a nice walk on his own. Then she would not only feel like a complete idiot, but God knows what else would spread around town about her. It was with that thought that she had decided to simply walk past him. If he needed help, he could call for it. Besides, he wasn't her concern anyway; she didn't know who he was or his situation so why should she feel any guilt?

 _Shit._

Chell knew she couldn't possibly leave him without first making sure that he was alright. The female had carefully approached him and offered a hand in his direction. She was, honestly, rather surprised at how eager he was to accept her help without her saying so much as a word. She briefly wondered if he had, perhaps, dealt with a mute before—but that wasn't something to dwell on now. Now she was more concerned with getting him somewhere he could sit down, which was easier said than done considering how he towered over her. Chell was never particularly tall, but this man had to at least be six feet just by the look of him. And the look of him wasn't particularly great; he looked as though he were ready to collapse at any given moment. When those intense eyes landed upon a small stone divider, she decided to gently settle him down on top of that. She knew it wasn't particularly the wisest decision, but it had at least gotten him off his feet and he even appeared to perk up the slightest bit. Her lips had momentarily parted; she supposed she had to say something eventually. Besides, she had to admit, she was the slightest bit curious as to who exactly he was. Someone like him didn't just show up out of nowhere, let alone in the condition he was in. It seemed, however, that the male before her beat her to the punch. Before she knew it he had opened his own mouth and began babbling on.

"Oh, thank you, that feels a lot better, really. I mean—'s not great but it's not as bad as it was. Honestly, I was surprised to see how very little people there are here, thought I'd run into someone eventually but I have to admit I was getting a little nervous, but thanks to you—t-to—Um, why are you, uh, lookin' at me like that?"

Chell found her hands suddenly tense, balling into tight fists that rested at her side. The sound of that voice, _his_ voice, caused every nerve in her body to fray. She had never known just how quick she could anger, but with this new found emotion boiling inside her, she was rather surprised at the speed. There was only one person with a voice like that, one person with such a unique accented voice, only one person who could ramble on like that and it made her blood boil.

 ** _Wheatley._** Even the name caused her head to pound, caused the blood to rush to her ears deafening her and caused the anger to surge through her being. Chell had thought she'd managed to let go of that anger, even after all these years, but her emotions seemed to prove that that thought was the exact opposite of reality. He had hurt her, and badly at that and when she left that hellhole of a facility and really reflected on things, she wasn't upset that he had been left in space. It left a large distance between them. It made it so something like _this_ would never happen. And yet, here he was now, she was sure it was him, babbling on about something or another; she didn't know what, why should she bother? Like he deserved the time of day from her anyway.

"I—I um, we haven't met before, have we? Did I say somethin' or, maybe I didn't um—I—O-Oh God." She could tell he was straining, really straining to see the figure in front of his single eye, considering the other was wrapped with bandages. So he hadn't recognized her until now? Whatever, it wasn't as if it changed anything.

She was surprised to see her legs working on their own accord, carrying her away from the lanky core—or, previous core or whatever the hell he was now. She was curious, she wanted to know why, to know how but in the same respect she needed to remove herself from the situation before she did something she regretted. Besides, he seemed human now, didn't he? The way he breathed, the way he limped and felt pain. She had been alone once, sent out into a world she knew so little about and forced to fend for herself and she hadn't even tried to murder anyone. And _She_ did not count. She wouldn't allow this back into her life, she was _free_ this was her _sanctuary_ and she would not allow Aperture to force itself upon her once again.

Wheatley, on the other hand, had different plans it seemed, because the sound of footsteps following after her slowly got closer and more prominent as the man attempted to catch up.

"W-Wait! L-Lady hold on please let me just—AUGH" No, how did he even manage to get back up, and moreover, _why_ did he feel the need to follow her? "—no, no no up now, have good footing, really walking is very hard, don't see how humans do it so easily! I always took that for granted, really, thought it was sort of pathetic they had to wait so long to start doin' it but it's actually very complicated, not easy at all. But—But um, no that wasn't what I was trying to get at! I can't believe it's you, really! Could you um—could you maybe wait up? Oh no I—I suppose not, don't really blame you but um…"

The rest was forcibly removed from her head as she carried herself down the sidewalk with a newfound purpose in her step. She wanted to get home and leave him far behind. She had to hand it to him; it seemed she wasn't the only one around these parts with tenacity anymore. Not only was he still trailing her, but he also still managed to ramble on. When the familiar home came into view, Chell had made it a point to prepare her house key ahead of time. It allowed her to open the door, step inside, and accordingly _slam_ and lock it, preventing any unwanted individuals from getting inside.

"Oh—uh, right can't say I particularly blame you for that either, you're mad, aren't you? Yes, probably very mad, by the looks of it, but um—I'll…I'll just wait out here, no problem no—oh no is that going at it _again?_ Well at least this time it's only coming there not out of my mouth or anythin'—er uh right so I'll just wait out here until you're not angry, or at least, slightly less angry and don't nearly break my nose with a door. And you don't want to storm off anymore because I don't think I could really keep up."

She had waited a good long time for him to start up again—and he had a few times, all of which ended with him trailing off about how he would obediently wait for her outside. It was then that she made it a point to close the curtains around her home, and carry on with her evening routine as if it were just another ordinary day. She made a quick dinner, took a hot shower, and only deviated in her usually evening affairs by ending the day with reading a book in her bedroom rather than propped up upon the couch. However, despite the presence of the literature between her fingers, Chell found that there wasn't particularly a lot of reading being done, if any at all.

She was surprised to find that a lot of her anger had actually managed to subside with this time apart. She was still hurt—and of course she wasn't so quick to let that grudge fade, but she now began to think rationally once more. How had he managed to return to earth? How had he gotten this far? How on earth had he managed to escape the confines of his core body and actually wind up in the body of a species he seemed to adamantly look down upon. Moreover, if this was a human body, how had he possibly managed to get the injuries he had sustained? It was frustrating, really. She wanted answers, but she wasn't exactly keen on getting them. Her head was spinning and it didn't help that she had started this whole ordeal with a headache to begin with. _Why?—_ that was the main question that seemed to repeatedly force itself into the front of her mind. Why now? Why was it now that her past came back to haunt her, now that she had a new life, now that she was finally over all that had happened to her and now that—her thoughts screeched to a halt when she had suddenly sat herself upright, her gaze briefly hovering over the handle of her bedroom door.

 _oh no is that going at it again? Well at least this time it's only coming there not out of my mouth or anythin'—_

He was _bleeding._ How hadn't she thought of that sooner? And if it had been coming out of his mouth—well, it was obvious he'd been through some extensive trauma. Yet again, she was lost as to what exactly had compelled her to push herself onto her feet and not only exit her bedroom but wind up standing before the front door of her home. She couldn't believe she was about to do this, but she'd be damned if she let someone bleed out in front of her home. Besides, despite the animosity she felt towards him, perhaps there was some shred of a decent human—or core left inside of him. If he had been a core, however, she may not have come to her current decision, considering cores tended to be much more resilient; then again, he may as well have been one. He was clueless right now, no better than a child, if she left him out there he would undoubtedly die within the matter of a few days. Dammit, why was she thinking so extensively about this? She just needed to act. After flipping the locks, the front door was pushed open, and it was no surprise to find he was sitting there, and a brilliant blue eye met with her own tired gaze. She gave a half-hearted gesture with her arm and found that, after a moment of hesitation, he pulled himself up to his feet and quickly shuffled into the home before she changed her mind.

It was because he was injured that she took him in. The moment he showed signs of being able to function properly once more he would be out on his own again, no exceptions. She didn't want to see him let alone wanted him in her home. But she had to do what she had to do. Besides, perhaps he would show her there was something worth saving inside of him.

She doubted it, but it was always nice to try and justify her actions.


	2. A Helping Hand

Wheatley found himself situated within a wooden chair, one which had been offered to him by the Lady upon his entrance. Well, perhaps the word offered was a bit strong in this situation. It was more so that he had entered the house, she had pointed to one of the chairs placed at the kitchen table and gave him a look sharp enough to pierce his very being so that he had taken the hint and quietly sat himself down, all the while watching as she disappeared down a hallway. It was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable really, but he supposed it was much better than sitting on the ground and outside none the less. And in retrospect, he had absolutely no right to complain. If she wanted him to stand facing the corner all night he would have had no choice but to silently oblige. Well, again, silent wasn't the best word, but either way, he would end up following her wishes.

Then again, perhaps wandering the streets wouldn't have been half bad compared to this. For years Wheatley had longed to see the Lady again, this was the very thing he had hoped for. Spending God knows how long in space most certainly set his priorities straight. However, never did he expect to meet her now, not like this. And though he didn't want to admit it, he felt a sense of fear gripping his very being. Just sitting in her kitchen made him uneasy, and though this wasn't a newfound experience as a human, it was a discomforting one nevertheless. His heart felt as though it were ready to quite literally break free from the confines of his chest; and for a brief moment, he had actually wondered if that was actually possible. How should he know? It wasn't as if he were used to this—any of this. Human emotion was something that was debatable, but the actual concept was a complete mystery.

Now everything he felt, everything he wanted to do had some sort of escape. Before if he had been nervous, it wouldn't necessarily show; being a metal ball most certainly restricted one's abilities to emote. But now he had physical and visible ticks. His hands found themselves knotted together, squeezing and soon releasing the tension; his leg seemed as though it couldn't sit still; and though this was something that would have been visible through his optic, he found his single-eyed gaze panning all around the room he was situated in, desperately waiting for the tanned woman to return from—well, wherever it was she had disappeared to.

There were two options floating around in the former-core's head, one of which seemed to be rather unfavorable, but both concerning why exactly the Lady had even decided to bring him into her home in the first place. One, or rather, the one he would like to avoid, was that she just wanted to have her way with him like—like _She_ had; and sure, why not? He had deserved it, even if he wouldn't be too keen on being roughed up. And besides, it wasn't as though he could do anything to stop it or to protect himself. He was injured—bloody human bodies, they were so very _fragile,_ and besides that, he could hardly walk let alone try and fend off a rather threatening human who has had a lot of practice and fine tuning of her own body parts. With an arm out of commission, as well as an eye and a painful wound upon his stomach he stood no sort of a chance. The second option, the one he would have preferred, was that perhaps he still had a chance of forgiveness—something he had longed for in space, something that had practically kept him going when things seemed so rough, something that had kept him going when— _Oh God what was he thinking?_

To receive forgiveness one generally had to apologize first, and what had he done? Blabber on about how hard it was to stand, and about that stupid bullet wound on his stomach and how it wouldn't stop bleeding—and that other Lady did something to it so why did it start bleeding again?—and that he was going to wait for her outside and generally everything that probably just irritated her and made him question why she had even decided to bring him in in the first place. It was at that moment he found his lips purse, and instead of gazing around the room (not that he was taking anything in to begin with) it shifted to the dark hall in which she had entered.

"Uh—Lady? Um, are you still in here? You've uh, you've been back there for quite a while now so I was just checking in! Y'know, making sure everything is alright back there, maybe you need some help? Don't suppose you could make a noise or somethin' just to let me know?" He had paused for a moment, waiting for some sort of reply and ultimately received none. "Right, didn't expect one any way you never really were into that were you—Ah! Anyway, uh, I just wanted to um—well I don't really want to do it if you're not there, I've done that enough already so, I guess I should just—wait, yes, waiting again."

Wheatley had decided it was best to occupy his time with finally taking in the scenery around him, or at least do so to the best of his ability. He greatly wished that his glasses hadn't broken, with them he would've had at least one good eye rather than one completely useless at the moment and the other with vision so blurred he could hardly see his hand held in front of his face. From what he could see, he could tell it was a modest homestead, or at least compared to the ones he'd seen in pictures and walking through the town. The kitchen wasn't anything great; there was a fridge, nothing to particularly brag about, a small stove and a sink, as well as the round wooden table he currently sat behind. In the adjacent room, there was an old monitor—a tele, he remembered that's what they called it, and across from it was a couch, that seemed to make sense. The only other thing that was really enthralling enough to catch his attention was a rather large shelf littered with—books? Yes, those appeared to be books and a lot of them at that.

The man found himself nearly jump out of his chair when he heard something placed on the table, and found his form whipping around to face whatever it was that had placed itself beside him. A first aid kit—he nearly laughed at himself for getting so worked up over it. His smile trailed up to meet with the Lady standing beside it, but it was soon washed away when he saw the expression across her own face. He found that it was probably best not to question what she was doing, though he did find it odd the way she was looking him over; from the top of his head where those thick blonde locks sat, down to his midsection, but why had she stopped there? His gaze lifted to meet with her own questioning, but still rather stern expression, and he was rather startled when she had made a move to grab the red-stained sweatshirt—that's what she had called it, wasn't it?—clinging to his thin form. She, in turn, did not seem very happy when he had made that move, and that was what really caused the light bulb to turn on.  
"Oh! Oh, you're—yes, very well, go ahead, then, though I doubt you'll be able to do much, that other lady couldn't either, apparently, considerin' it began leaking again. But—uh, yes do whatever it is you like, I s'ppose." And she had, gently rolling up the material so as not to harm his arm carefully wrapped in a sling (and which had momentarily stuck to the bandages underneath) and he saw her physically grimace at the sight.

"I told you it had been leaking." Wheatley had remarked as she stared silent as ever at the blood-soaked bandages underneath. She was, however, happy to see that it hardly looked as gruesome underneath. A pulled stitch had caused the bleeding, and though it wasn't anything too serious, the wound itself was nasty. She knew damn well what caused this sort of injury, and truthfully, it made her shudder at the thought. But how had he managed to run into turrets—of course she knew how she just didn't want to admit it. She quickly distracted herself by grabbing at new bandages and beginning to wrap his wound once again.

Wheatley had watched her intently, and surprisingly enough, silently. It was a short-lived silence, but he had done so nonetheless. It was during this time while she redressed the wound, however, that his lips parted once again and his voice filled the room.

"I um—before when I was sittin' in here and talkin' well I uh—I wanted to say that I was thinkin' about how I didn't say it before, and that's all I thought about in space, really—well, maybe not _all_ I thought about in space but a good majority of the things I thought about and especially _down there_ and all but—anyway, what I really just wanted to say was that I—I uh, well that back then, y…—you know when, I was so monstrous and mean and I wish I could take it all back, honestly, I really do but anyway what I'm trying to say is that I really am truly sorry." And his face turned to her own, waiting for some sort of reaction from her.

The hope in his eye visibly dwindled when he received no reaction, but he wasn't going to give up, not just yet. He hadn't traveled all this way just to give up the first time he didn't get the reaction he wanted. Though, it did cause his nerves to strike again.  
"A-anyway, I don't know why I didn't think about it sooner, really, that was—that was really stupid of me, and selfish, and _mean._ I was so caught up in my own problems that I hadn't even thought about apologizing, and I couldn't really keep up with you—and I didn't even recognize you at first a-and—where are you going now?"

Once she had finished, Chell had cleaned up her mess and carried the box back into that dark hallway he had watched her leave in before. Only this time when she had made a reappearance she held a neatly folded blanket in her hand, a rather big one at that, one that Wheatley couldn't quite recall the name of, and a pillow rested on top of that. He watched intently as the items were placed on the couch, however, he hadn't moved—the last thing he wanted to do was upset her, so he was content watching from the kitchen, even if his view was somewhat obstructed by the counter jutting out and taking up half of the path—though it did serve as a divider between the two spaces. He watched as she pulled some things out from the couch, and was rather amazed when she had pulled it out and turned it into a bed. That was most certainly impressive, at least by Wheatley's standards. It was then that the pillow was laid down and the blanket was thrown on top of it—she certainly wasn't going for caring in that action. When a look was shot his way, he had figured that would be his bed for the night, and it was then he finally picked himself up and carefully made his way to the makeshift bed.

"Oh, that was interesting! Very clever if I do-say-so-myself! Making a little bed in this couch, really now, never would've expected that! Don't know who—who um why are you?—Oh! Oh—th-thank you! Yes, thank you, don't know where I'd be if you hadn't let me inside—or, well yes I do, we both know where I'd be and this is definitely much better, so, again, thank you."  
It was then that the man had settled himself down in the bed, and (with a bit of effort only having that one arm) unfolded the blanket that had been given to him before he draped it over his lanky form. He could have sworn he saw her eyes roll around in her head but he didn't mind, besides, before he got a second look the lights were switched off and he heard the familiar click of a door. It was a cold reunion, but he was simply grateful she had let him in at all.

It hadn't taken long for Wheatley to remember how very _threatening_ he found the night, or more exactly _the dark._ He had briefly pondered calling out to the Lady once more, asking if she could maybe turn a light on for him but he quickly decided against that idea. He saw the looks she gave him and he didn't want to upset her anymore by waking her up. Humans needed their sleep, didn't they? Which reminded him—was _this_ what they spoke of when they said they were tired? Yes, Wheatley had slept before this but he had never been to this point of exhaustion. Before he knew it the world actually began to slip away from his grasp; he was no longer afraid of the dark, or afraid of what the Lady was really thinking and planning, instead, he allowed his mind to slip into unconsciousness and embraced this action that humans referred to as 'sleep'.

Odd noises began to fill the air and, in turn, hit his ears. He couldn't quite make out what they were, but he could only assume someone was moving around. It was then that he was aware of the bright light hitting his eyelid, and the nagging pain emanating from his side. That had caused a rather startling thought to come to mind—last night, had that all happened? He found that had been enough to rouse him and cause him to stir. His side protested sharply when he had quickly sat upright, and he found a pained noise escape his lips, a noise which had, in turn, caused the Lady to give him a side glance as she waited patiently by her—toaster, yes, that was indeed a toaster.

Wheatley had flashed a nervous grin in her direction and had even voiced a chipper 'Good Morning!' to which he, again, received no reaction. After the pain in his side lessened into a dull throb, the man had carefully picked himself up and even managed to wander back into the kitchen—which seemed so very different now that it was illuminated. The Lady seemed uneasy as she stood beside the machine waiting for her, what he assumed to be, breakfast to come out. He didn't know what would cause her to be so antsy, back in Aperture he always knew her to be so proud, so certain of herself, the Lady was always—

"Do you have a name? I mean—obviously, I'm sure you do—why wouldn't you, even I have a name—or at least gave myself one, anyway. But I never knew yours, just your room number didn't really know anyone's name down there, actually." The thought had been so sudden he couldn't help but voice the question. That was usually how Wheatley's mind worked; before his mind finished a complete thought it was quickly replacing it with a new idea. It was rare he actually got a full thought in. He was caught off guard when the toast had bounced up in the machine, and he watched as she quickly slathered something onto it—something yellow that melted when it touched it, and then left to grab something from a door he had actually managed to miss the night before. She reappeared with a thin jacket hugging her thin features, and then made a line to the front door.

Just before her hand reached the knob, he found she hesitated. She had turned on her heels, her gaze directed elsewhere. She reached into a few drawers before coming back with a pen and a small pad. He watched as she quickly scribbled something down, and then moments later she was heading out the door, leaving a dazed man behind.

"Uh—Um! Goodbye then! When are you going to—and she's gone, completely, probably didn't hear any of that." He managed to heave a heavy sigh before his sight turned back onto the note she'd left scrawled upon that small notepad. While he wasn't the Curiosity core, he found it was getting the best of him currently and he carried himself over to the table where he carefully scooped up the pad with his good arm and positioned it so that he could just make out the letters on the page.

"C-H-E-L-L? Chell? Well, what in the bloody heck is that supposed to mean? Chell, is that some sort of— _OH!_ Her name! Yes, that must be her name! Chell? Well, it's not somethin' I've ever heard before, most certainly odd as it comes to humans—b-but! It's lovely, really. And I suppose Wheatley isn't particularly a normal name for a human either. Chell. Yes, I believe I rather like that."


	3. Tension

As Chell headed towards work that morning she felt as though she were in some sort of daze. The events of the following evening were on constant reply in her mind; she knew what had happened, understood her actions but it still all seemed so very far away. It was almost as if she had been trying to deny that all of it had been real; she wouldn't have been surprised had it all turned out to be a dream, some fantasy her mind had created. It really wasn't all that hard to imagine—had someone approached her the day before and told her that this could potentially happen she would have laughed in their face. When she had left Wheatley in space she had thought that would be the last she saw of him. She hadn't expected to ever see that small core again let alone meet up with a full-grown human that just so happened to be the lost robot. It didn't seem possible—it wasn't possible, and yet there he was now; sitting in her home, defying reality. Wait—that was right; he was currently sitting in _her_ home. Well, at least she had a short period of time where she could escape. She would never admit it, but she had left early that morning. They didn't need her in at this time, not like they had the preceding days, but Chell needed this short span of time to herself. She just needed an opportunity to think and that was what the workday provided.

She hadn't expected to be able to push the thought of the man to the back of her mind as easily as she had but she most certainly had managed to do so. Whether that was a win, however, was entirely up for debate. When a shipment came in, of course Chell had volunteered to help carry the boxes in and sort them accordingly—not that there was really anyone else. But doing things such as that always meant the day was going to be long and the work would be hard. Considering the time of the shipment as well, it meant that she would be staying a bit later than usual. All of this led to a mildly irritated Chell. The trip home on this day proved to be less grueling than the one on the evening prior, however. At least today she wasn't sidetracked by any unsavory individuals.

 _Oh._

And that's when the unpleasant reality sunk in once again. There was no doubt that upon her arrival she would be greeted by the man, who would surely begin to ramble and when that happened he refused to keep quiet. That was when another thought had come to mind; had he even eaten anything? He would certainly be complaining about that as well, or at least she assumed so. She just didn't want to deal with it—no, she didn't want to deal with _him._ As she made her way down the small walkway to her home, she began to question what had possessed her to take him in, to begin with. With a gentle sigh, her key slid into the lock, and she pushed the door open, only to be greeted by the distinct scent of burnt food.

"L-Lady! O-Oh thank goodness you're—I just wanted to make you somethin' to eat—y-y'know because I know humans eat dinner an' all a-and well I was sort of feeling that weird feeling in my stomach— _hunger_ , yes, anyway I used the toaster like you did an' it came out fine but then I tried to make somethin' else and well—um it…it sort of…" It was burned to a _crisp._

If there was one thing Chell hadn't thought about, it was the fact that the former-core might actually try and cook something—he had one arm, one eye and probably close to no experience. Then again, wasn't it his job to come up with terrible ideas? She couldn't help but feel that irritation inside of her grow at the sight of her kitchen, or more particularly, the mess he had made within it. Her first priority had been to turn off the fire still burning on her stove, and after grabbing a rag; she gripped the handle of the pot placed on top of the former flames and examined the burnt remanence of the food left inside. She had determined that the food was in fact once soup, and said soup had managed to bubble over and now stained her once white stove top. The smell was atrocious, and it appeared as though some of it had already managed to dry. She found she had to take quite the deep breath as she placed the singed pot in the sink, and began to not only rinse that out but attempt to scrub the horrid soup off the top of her stove.

Oh, but of course, he decided to begin speaking again.  
"I was worried, y'know, you didn't say anythin'—er, uh, well not that that's anythin' out of the ordinary, but I didn't really know if you were going to come back or not, but I just sort of hoped you were so that's why I started to make—a-anyway, it was really lonely sittin' here all alone an' I don't really know how to use anythin'. And at one point I really had to—t-to um…and then I couldn't find the _bathroom_ so I got nervous that—b-but I did so, so you don't have to worry about…about that."  
It was during the break in his speech due to his momentary embarrassment that Chell had placed a bag of ramen into a pot of boiling water, she had placed that there sometime during his little rant. Just as she began to bask in the silence he was back at it again.

"My side was hurtin' so bad today too—but then again I was sittin' at a weird angle, should've known better. I also managed to hit my arm wrong—oh did that bloody _hurt!_ Honestly, I thought robots had it bad but humans—well, they're the real MVPs, it made me think about all those people I used to see testin', never really understood how somethin' could hurt so bad until now, that's for sure. Bein' a human is so hard; I don't see what the fuss is about, honestly, why anyone is happy to do this really blows my mind! There are so many ways to mess things up and mess your own self up as well! Then again, I wonder if I would feel any different had I known how to do stuff around here? A-And if I wasn't all bandaged up, that too. Oh! I picked up one of your books, by the way, thought I might entertain myself with some classical literature, y'know, bein' the scholar I am an' all. Couldn't read it, had too much trouble tryin' t'make out the words, and it ended up making my head hurt horribly so I gave up on that bloody quick I did, so the rest of the day was just so _dull_ and—"

" ** _SHUT UP._** "

The silence that had followed those two strong words was nearly deafening. Just moments ago Chell had prayed for it, wished for it more than anything in the world and now she could only wait for something to break the lapse in noise, or more so _someone_ to break it but it seemed she had caused even Wheatley to fall mute. The words bounced around in her head and seemed to physically hurt her skull with the impact. The sound of her voice echoed in her ears—how on earth had she managed to let that slip? Did her vow she made all those years ago mean nothing now? He was from ** _there_** —absolutely nothing from that place was ever supposed to feel the satisfaction of hearing her voice; that was hers and hers alone. What hurt worst, however, was the look she was receiving from the pale man standing across from her. _No_ , she shouldn't feel bad for _him._ Even as he stood there staring wide-eyed, mouth agape; even as he stood there silent, whether that was due to her harsh words or the initial shock of her voice resounding through the small home was questionable; even as he stood there looking so genuinely _hurt_ she didn't care. At least, that was what she was telling herself internally.

Her lips had momentarily pursed, and she had made it a point to turn her back on him, and instead preoccupied herself with the finished ramen on the stove. It was poured into a bowl, and after the seasoning was haphazardly mixed in, it was left on the table for the other to consume. Chell hadn't paid him a second glance; instead, she passed right by him, traveled down the hall and slammed the door to her bedroom. She didn't need dinner, or rather, wouldn't go back out there now. Not with him out there, not after that. The deed was done, she had said what she was thinking, actually voiced her thoughts and now there was no turning back. Her stomach gave some protest to this decision, but the woman ignored it and instead changed out of her work clothes, into her pajamas and slid into bed. She had picked up her book from the previous night; she figured that some reading would help settle her nerves and having entered the bedroom so early she had plenty of time to do so before she had to turn in for the evening. While she found that once again the reading that had been completed was very minimal, she found that on this night exhaustion began to take over and, before long, she found she was drifting into unconsciousness. At least now her mind was clear of any intruding thoughts.

When Chell had awoken the next morning, she found the first thing she did rather than shower was to check on the man currently sharing her residence. He was still asleep, not that that had been any surprise to her. He had been asleep yesterday when she had been bustling around as well, though, yesterday she hadn't made it a point to check on him. She had extra time this morning; at least that's what she told herself as she meandered into the bathroom to take her shower.

It was the usual routine; she showered, got herself dressed, did her hair, then she would find herself moving around the kitchen and making herself something quick before she would be heading out the door and to work. Unlike the previous one, this morning she had not been greeted with a cheery hello upon his waking. Chell knew Wheatley was awake; she had seen him briefly stirring and even caught him watching her for a moment before she turned to continue her routine. Now he didn't want to talk, huh? If he thought he was upsetting her by doing this he was most certainly wrong. Chell had every right to yell at him, which is why she paid no attention to his behavior, and instead slid on her jacket as she had every day and left him behind as she traveled to work.

Today, however, she found it wasn't as easy to shove the thought of the man at home from her mind. Even as she stood behind the counter, helping customers, or when she was simply left to her own accord she couldn't quite get him out of her thoughts. Why did she feel bad? She had taken him into her home, taken care of his bleeding wound, fed him, gave him a bed to sleep on and the least he could have done was respected her wishes and not ramble on all the damn time. But when her mind began to think that way, she couldn't help but feel the guilt inside of her swell. Her words were _harsh_ and she knew that.

Wheatley was in pain, and she hadn't even bothered checking the rest of him out. He was human now, he had flaws and he had needs and she hadn't even thought about them until he had mentioned it the day prior. Chell didn't know why she was so adamant about being sharp with him, on showing a lack of interest and always looking so very irritated. Deep down, she saw something in the former-core, something that she related to and something that she found very scary. At the moment, Wheatley reminded her very much of herself when she had first escaped Aperture, and she seemed to resent that. How could they have anything in common after what he did to her? He was a monster, a tyrant, a _backstabber—_ but now; Chell didn't particularly see all that. She saw an injured and confused man who was basically the equivalent of a toddler when it came to life. Despite all of this, Chell had decided to yell at him for something he couldn't help; he was just happy to see her, to see someone he knew who had helped him and of course he would want to talk to her; he had been alone all day, alone for who knows how long.

Shit. She was going to have to make things right now, wasn't she? It looked like Chell would be making a quick pit stop after her shift was through.

This evening Chell had arrived home a bit earlier than the preceding night, and tonight she came with a new addition to her person; a plastic bag held firmly in her grip. Wheatley had been situated upon the unfolded couch, straining to read one of her books from the shelf. He seemed thoroughly startled when she had entered the house, and she watched as he scrambled to put it away. She couldn't help but find her eyes rolling with his actions, though she felt a twinge inside of her when he had done so. Moving around like that wasn't good for either of them; if he hurt himself further it was going to be her having to take care of him and right now she had other things to attend to. She had placed the bag upon the kitchen table, before her hand wrapped around one of the wooden chairs and carefully pulled it out and pointed the seat towards the male. Once she had his attention, she pointed to the seat and patiently waited for him to obey her wish. He was hesitant, just as he had been the first night, but he soon obliged, making his way into the kitchen and sitting down before her.

She realized she had to be careful with this, and she saw the odd looks he was giving her as she made her way around the house, closing the curtains to eliminate as much light as she possibly could from the home; she had even turned the kitchen light off, leaving only a dim lamp lit in the living room behind her. Once she was satisfied with the lighting, she had moved over to the plastic bag she brought home and began laying the items out on the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. " the words were quick as her hands moved to crumple up the bag and her legs carried her over so that she could throw it underneath a cabinet.  
And that was when Wheatley appeared thoroughly shocked yet again. _So it wasn't fake!—_ that was the look clear as day upon his face, and once his gaze met her own, her eyes darted away and onto the small box she had grabbed when she made her way back to the table, a box in which she was currently prying open.

"I thought—you never talked down there and…and you said to—I didn't want to make you _angry_ because I really appreciate bein' able to stay here an' all and—well I really didn't mean to make a mess either, honestly, and I know you don't really like when I ramble, obviously, but it had just been a while and I just wanted to…talk to someone, that's all." It seemed like such a relief for him to be able to speak again; she hadn't known if he had remained silent for the majority of the day, she thought that was probably absurd but she couldn't be sure of the true answer. Either way, she responded with a very gentle 'I know' before she was standing in front of him once again.

"I um—I was able to read that note, by the way. Chell, huh? It's a lovely name, really, especially now that I've been able to think about it. Chell, yes, very nice, very unique, not somethin' you hear every day an' all. But—there's nothin' wrong with—with um—" He was caught off guard when he found she was suddenly running her fingers along the side of his head, hands working at the bandages entwined with his hair.  
She didn't know the damage underneath the bandages covering his right eye, but she knew she would eventually have to change them; and besides, she needed to know what she was dealing with. When she found where it ended, the tip was grabbed, and slowly but surely she began unwinding the strip around his head.

"This might hurt." The words were soft, she didn't want to alarm him but she needed him to prepare himself for the possibility.

It had been wrapped for so long that the light would almost assuredly sting; that was if that eye was even able to open. Once she reached the end of the bandage, she was careful to remove it, bracing herself for what she might find underneath and—

"AUUGH—Uh…O-Oh! I—I can see! Haha! Would you look at that! It's a bit painful, that light an' all, and it's a little hard but—but that's two-eyed vision most certainly!"

It was a relief to find the eye was not only intact, but the damage was actually minimal as well. There was a rather nasty scrape over his eyelid but it was entirely superficial. The eye itself was perfectly fine, and despite some swelling from the upper lid, it actually seemed alright. She doubted the wound would even scar if she were being honest. It seemed that purchasing those extra bandages was a waste in the long run—a happy one, nevertheless. While she was satisfied with the appearance of it, Wheatley was practically overjoyed, still babbling away at how _amazing_ it was to see out of two eyes and how there wasn't a crack like there was in his optic and this was so much better even if his vision was blurry. And this continued as Chell began making dinner for the two of them.

Even though he had continued rambling on, Chell hadn't particularly mind it this evening. Spaghetti had been made; it was quick but at least it wouldn't have the same frozen, canned, or preservative taste that the rest of her instant foods had. She was willing to bet this was Wheatley's first meal as well. When the plate had been placed before him, she also included a glass of water along with two pills.

"What are these for?" Was his initial reaction, before he scooped the small capsules up and began curiously examining them through squinted eyes.

"You said your side hurt, and I'm sure your eye does too. It will help with the pain. Swallow them with water."  
Suddenly, it seemed as if she were giving him two bricks to swallow whole.

"S-Swallow them? Whole—w-what if I choke on them! Do you see the size of 'em? You'll kill me! I'll probably die—humans are so delicate! A-Actually, you know what? I'm fine! Ahaha, yes, one hundred percent fine, I was only joking about my side hurtin' yesterday, it's actually ok! I just wanted to mess with you, that's all, have a little go at you an' all! So, really, I don't need them at all! Nope, not at all, but I'll let you know if! I-If…" But the look Chell gave him told him there was no debating this.  
All he could do was give her a hopeless look before a single pill was placed on his tongue and he did his best to down it with water.

He most certainly made an affair out of the whole ordeal. He was gagging and coughing (even if the pill had gone down on the first try) and asking if he _really_ had to take the other one to which Chell gave a nod which told him he _really_ did have to take it and he (begrudgingly) obliged. And it was after that that the pair had picked up their utensils and dug into their quickly made meal. Wheatley had begun talking about—something, Chell had managed to tone out though she picked up on a few words so she assumed it was about the pasta she had made. Honestly, she was more concerned about looking him over thoroughly now. He was still in that ratty sweatshirt he'd come in, and her grey hues were mostly concerned about the red blotch that stained the clothing just over the large pocket adorning the front. And now that she really looked, those thick blonde locks weren't the same as they had been the day she found him. They had a slight shine to them, and not one that was becoming that was for sure. She couldn't tell from her current position, but she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he'd developed an odor as well. She didn't care about him; she just made him dinner because she had to, she bought him that stuff because she couldn't let his wounds get infected, she listened to him now because she didn't want to deal with him when he was upset.

While she these recurring thoughts once more began playing in her mind, a new and bigger one seemed to push the others away and took precedence. After they were done eating she was going and starting the water for a bath he desperately needed. And maybe she would take him clothes shopping when her day off finally rolled around—because she couldn't exactly let him walk around in a blood-stained sweat-shirt with greasy hair and a foul stench. It was simply what anyone else would do had they been in her position. It was _not_ because she cared.


	4. Fresh Layers

Once dinner had been finished and the two plates were added to the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink, Wheatley found that once again he was left alone in the main part of the home as Chell wandered off down that unknown hallway. She knew that this whole affair was going to be somewhat of a struggle, and had it not come from the current condition he was in it would most certainly come from the man himself. When she had covered the drain and began running the water, she couldn't help but wonder if this would be the former core's first bath. She understood it shouldn't have been a surprise, he had been a metal ball for most of his life, and yet the very thought was so shocking to her. Once her thoughts had swayed down that path, there were actually a lot of things that she was beginning to question about the man sitting in the next room. He had known how to eat but she hadn't taught him that and assuming he'd come from Aperture she doubted he got anything down there. On top of that he had said he knew how to use the bathroom, which was another thing that she hadn't particularly thought twice about considering that, just two days earlier, his words had been nothing more to her than irritating gibberish. He must have had a run in with someone before he found himself stumbling upon her, it was the only reasonable explanation considering the knowledge he had (what very little it was) and the way his wounds had been dressed. And thinking of those wounds—Chell couldn't help but find herself cut the water off before it rose too high. Chell was hardly any doctor but she knew that it probably wasn't best to submerge those stitches. This would most certainly make things harder, but he still needed a bath. She would just have to get a cloth and work around it. After taking a brief trip to the closet and grabbing the necessary materials she placed them in the bathroom and then went to retrieve the other.

Wheatley was quickly coming to understand that the Lady wasn't particularly one for speaking even though she did, in fact, have the ability to do so. He couldn't quite understand _why_ she insisted on giving him distinct looks and various hand motions to communicate rather than just telling him what it was she wanted. Having a voice was an absolutely splendid thing; he couldn't even imagine a world where he couldn't speak! The fact she didn't take advantage of that ability and instead chose to wave her hands around at him, like she was right now, nearly blew his mind. Well—alright, perhaps she wasn't particularly waving her hands around; rather, she was giving him a peculiar look and gave a very gentle wave of the hand before she was wandering down the now lit hallway. Seeing that he couldn't exactly argue, and feeling some type of excitement, what with finally being able to see what was down that hallway was enough to get him to eagerly follow behind the woman to wherever it was she was leading him. He was rather disappointed to find that she just took him into the bathroom and not the two other shut doors in the household, though he was quick to change his expression when she noticed the dejected look he had been giving. He was glad she didn't linger on it, though he was rather confused with what she did next.

Chell honest to God could not think of a single way to communicate what she wanted him to do without verbally saying it. The thing was, she couldn't help but find herself fluster at the very thought. She didn't want to stand in this bathroom all night, however, and she knew that this was just the tip of the iceberg with how uncomfortable she would feel this night. So, after a rather long inhale, she found her lips part and the words that needed to be said soon followed.

"Wheatley, I need you to take your clothes off for me."  
Chell didn't know what had shocked her more; the fact he hadn't put up any sort of fight at the suggestion or the fact that, before she knew it, he was already out of his jeans and trying to slide that sweatshirt over his head.

 _He doesn't know._

She found her thoughts quickly interjecting

 _To him being naked is just another thing that humans may do. Explain it later—just get over it, Chell._

And so she did and quickly made her way over to help him work around his injured arm as well as to remove the bandage on his waist. Before long he stood completely uncovered to the world around him and it was at that moment that Chell had led him over to the warm bath water waiting for him in the tub. She had seen a flash of hesitation quickly pass over his face which had managed to catch her off guard. But when she actually began to think about it as she helped him settle down in the water, she supposed it was natural. Before now that water, for as little of it as there was, probably would have been enough to kill him—or short circuit him, whatever the equivalent of dying was to robots. Even though it was virtually harmless to him now, she saw he was rather pensive regarding the whole ordeal.

"This is—well, it's rather _odd_ if I do say so myself—what's the point of sittin' in here, anyway? I don't understand, you humans do such odd things, sittin' in the water like this and look, it barely covers my legs! Pretty useless if you ask me, I mean how long do I even have to—AUUGH _WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?_ "

All the while Wheatley had been complaining about the water, he hadn't questioned why exactly it was that the Lady had been filling a cup with said water or why she had tipped his head back. It was only when the liquid suddenly began drenching his hair did he begin to panic. Granted, she had placed a hand over his eyes to protect them but that hadn't made it any less surprising.

"Well—my hair is wet now! What was that for—and couldn't you have warned me before you went and did that?"

In retrospect, _yes,_ she probably could have and should have warned him before she did that but it was in the past now. Instead, she simply reached over his lanky form to grab the shampoo bottle, and once it was in her grasp she poured some of it into her open palm before offering the bottle to the man who carefully examined it, trying desperately to make out the blurred words.

"That's shampoo." She had explained as she thoroughly scrubbed those sandy locks. "I'm giving you a bath. You have to take them often now unless you want to smell like you do now."  
Never in her life had she seen someone look more offended, and she couldn't help but find an amused grin passing her features.

 _"Ended up giving me the_ _ **worst**_ _possible job, tending to all the smelly humans."_ The phrase lingered in the back of her mind as she dipped his head back once more, this time giving a proper warning before she dumped the water over his frothy hair. At the time she had been rather irritated by that slip-up, and yet now she couldn't be more amused. Perhaps that was because now Wheatley was one of those _smelly humans_ himself—literally so. She had at least been able to resist letting off a gentle laugh to accompany that grin when she caught a glimpse of Wheatley, or rather, how displeased he seemed to have been with the grin gracing her features.

Once she had finished with his hair, including an explanation of conditioner and that it was already mixed in with the shampoo she had used on him, she moved to scoop up one of the washcloths she'd grabbed earlier and dipped it in the water. She had rubbed the soap on the damp rag and soon explained what it was and what it was for, and that she had this and such little water so that she wouldn't get his stitches too wet. She had him do his privates on his own which had confused him and which also led to the perfect opportunity for her to explain that it wasn't particularly _normal_ to walk around naked and that under any other circumstances Chell would _not_ have wanted to see him naked and still did not. He seemed to show some understanding of human relations, however, and it was after that that she had quickly cut him off. Once he had finished she gingerly took the rag from him. She didn't particularly trust him to scrub himself down good enough nor did she trust him around those stitches. As she carefully rubbed around the wound, he had managed to once again catch her by surprise.  
"Why did you never talk? I mean, down there, of course, if you knew you could. I know you had brain damage an' all and I sort of told you _not_ to talk for fear of your teeth fallin' out but anyway—why?"  
She had momentarily stopped clearing away the dried blood on his pasty form when that question had slipped past his mouth. It had been so out of the blue that she really was momentarily at a loss for words; not that her silence was any sort of surprise. After a few quick seconds, she had once again regained her composure and resumed her scrubbing.  
"I didn't want to." She knew that probably wasn't good enough of an answer for the man before she had even caught a glimpse of the questioning gaze he gave her. She found a sigh pass parted lips after that, and before he could get another word out she began speaking once more.  
"It was the only thing I had down there. I didn't even know if I could talk. The possibility was enough to keep me quiet. I didn't want anything down there to hear the last thing I could keep to myself." She supposed she had done a good job of hiding it as well—all up until now, that was.

"If I'm being honest, I actually couldn't speak for a long while after I escaped. So, that was another reason—really the main one." And with those last words, she finished up with any of the blood left on his being.

Honestly, the rest of the bath had been rather uneventful. Wheatley didn't particularly make too much of a fuss with anything else. Once he was finished up she had had him step out of the tub and wrapped a soft towel around his shoulders. After that, she had carefully led him over to the toilet and had him take a seat on the closed top so that she could reach his head and properly dry his hair. It was only after she begun doing so did she see the problem glaring her directly in the face.

 _What was he supposed to wear?  
_ Her grey hues absentmindedly glanced over at the soiled clothing lying on the ground where he had eagerly shed it just a short while ago. There was no way she could have him get back into those in the current condition they were in. She had wrapped the towel around his head before she gave him a very brief motion which pretty much told him to _stay here_ and then found herself wandering into her bedroom.

Wheatley was much larger than she. It was true that he was thin—very thin at that and she couldn't help but have some concerning thoughts flicker over her mind when she saw just how defined his ribcage was when it wasn't hidden by that bulky piece of clothing. But that wasn't her main concern at the moment; that could be dealt with at a later time. She knew full well she couldn't let him walk around naked, but she couldn't think of anything she could give him that would fit him comfortably. That was until her eyes glanced over an old but familiar material. Well, he didn't really know about human attire, right? Besides, it would only be for a night or two and it wasn't hurting anyone. With that thought in mind, she grabbed the material and trailed back into the bathroom where she would present the clothing to the male.

"Oh! This is bloody brilliant! Honestly, I remember seeing some of the scientists in these sorts of things—the ladies, usually, but wow! I never knew how comfortable this—this um—this thing could be! It's so freeing!"  
Chell could only watch as Wheatley swung his body to and fro admiring the nightgown now hugging his form. She had gotten the old thing quite some time ago, and until now it had yet to be worn. It had been on sale and when she found they didn't have it in her size she thought she'd at least try to fit in what they had left. It turned out to be a rather silly mistake on her part because the nightgown was far too large for her small frame. She had, of course, meant to take it back but it was simply never done—something she was rather thankful for now as the male praised the soft sleepwear. At least she could get some use out of it, even if it just so happened to be inadvertently.

With his bath done Chell had ushered Wheatley back into the living room so that she could clean up the mess. Once the water was mopped up and the towels hung to dry she made her way back into the open part of her home to catch a glimpse at the oven clock and nearly grimaced when she saw the time. Ten thirty already? She hadn't thought that bath would take so long—she had work the following day and even if it was Friday she couldn't afford to be late or to slack off on the job. She had turned herself back around to go and get ready for bed—but before she could manage to do so she found herself hesitating. She soon found that she was peering over her shoulder to catch a glance of the former core now situating himself upon his makeshift bed. She didn't know if he had seen her or if it was just luck that made him turn to face behind himself but either way, she now caught a glimpse of a wide-smiling man who was quick to wish her a chipper 'Good night!' as he settled his own self down for the evening. Chell was momentarily frozen, half of her body ready to just silently make its way to her room as she did every night and yet she remained. Her lips parted, but quickly found themselves closing and instead, she simply gave a very gentle nod of the head as her own form of a good night before wandering off into her bedroom.

A few nights ago she wouldn't have even bothered to pay him even that short glance or given him something as simple as a nod of her head—something to show she was _listening_ and that she cared. While her mind lingered on these thoughts, she tucked herself into her bed and couldn't help but notice the unopened book laying on her nightstand. Well, it seemed she would go yet another night without reading; at this rate, the book was going to be collecting dust before she had the chance to pick it up again. Tomorrow night, she decided, she would dedicate some time to her novel, but right now she had to close her eyes and allow herself drift into blissful sleep.

The next morning Wheatley had woken to a quiet household—something that had been enough to thoroughly startle him; so much so that it had caused him to quickly pull the covers off his form and to practically throw himself out of his bed. The past few days she had been there when he'd woken up, and he couldn't help but feel a horrible knot form within his stomach.

"L-Lady? Are you there? LADY?" But there was no reply.

He had begun a search throughout the home looking for the former test subject only to wind up empty handed—or, well not entirely so. He had finally been able to take a glance in the final two rooms he'd yet to see. The one was—not even a room, actually it was just a closet filled with spare blankets and a lot of towels. The next one had actually been rather interesting, that one had been _her_ room. Even stepping foot in there made him feel somewhat guilty, almost as though he were trespassing, that she wouldn't have liked him being in there. He hadn't exactly poked around, just stuck his head in and glanced at the bed to make sure she wasn't there and then his search returned to the front of the house. Where, just as it had been minutes ago, was empty apart from his own presence. Had she left him? He wouldn't have blamed her, she had never actually accepted his apology and he still seemed to aggravate her with some of the things he did. But another thought soon came to mind when thinking of her sudden disappearance—perhaps she had just left the house again? She seemed to do so every day, so he didn't know why today would've been any different. He wasn't particularly sure why she was in such a rush to leave every morning, but he did know that it was so boring waiting for her to come back. He supposed there was a bit of sadness welling up in the pit of his stomach which replaced that sudden onslaught of fear, of course some of it still remained but it certainly didn't overcome how upset he was that he'd missed her. He had enjoyed seeing her off in the morning, it had at least been enough to settle the anxiety he felt each time she left the house without a word. Then again, the only person he had to blame was himself.

Why couldn't he just learn to sleep? Humans had no problem doing so; even the infants they had seemed to do so with ease. He was always tossing and turning and eventually he'd give up and stay alert most of the night. Granted, it was boring—terribly so, but at least it helped with those weird images he'd see when he slept. Dreams, he believed is what they called them, but they were pretty rotten ones, to say the least, enough so that they managed to keep him awake through the duration of the night. That, of course, proved to be mind-numbing. Wheatley could hardly sit still for two seconds let alone hours on end in the darkness without a single sound to disrupt the silence. Obviously, he'd managed to doze off over the course of these nights but last night he seemed to be awake longer than any other, which would make sense as to why he'd slept right through her morning routine. He briefly debated making it up to her by trying to make her dinner again—but he quickly shook that idea out of his head considering her reaction the last time. He supposed all he really could do was sit and wait—that was if she ever came back. Though, at least it was something he was becoming accustomed to.

"Lady! You did come back! I got so worried when I woke up and you weren't there, I thought maybe you left at night or somethin'! I looked everywhere for you and when I couldn't find you—I really thought you weren't coming back."

Chell couldn't help but find a gentle sigh pass her lips as she made her way back to her home after another long day of work. Much like the previous day, however, she found bags adorning her arms as she meandered in, promptly closing the door behind her and locking it. He was very anxious, she'd noted, and for a brief moment, he had nearly reminded her of a puppy the way he always managed to perk up whenever she returned home. It was almost—no, she wouldn't admit to this grown man actually being _cute._ She hadn't grown that fond of him. She quickly shook the thought out of her mind and moved to place her bags down on the table before moving to start dinner. Wheatley seemed to have enjoyed a homemade meal, and it wasn't as if she didn't appreciate it either. Besides, it didn't take all that long to make grilled cheese—she knew it probably wouldn't compare to the meal he had the night before but at least it was something. Once she'd put the small sandwich together and placed it on the stove, her attention was turned back to the man watching her intently with each move she made. It was then that she scooped up the various bags and handed them to Wheatley who, quite obviously, was rather confused by the ordeal.

"What's this? It's certainly heavy—is it for me or—do you want me to put it somewhere?" She nearly rolled her eyes at that question.  
"Go try them on, or at least look at them. Use the bathroom."

That most certainly confused the core but he found it was best not to argue when Chell told him to do something; that had been the reason why he had found himself wandering off and into the bathroom with the newly acquired bags. She watched as he disappeared and only resumed her cooking when she heard the door shut behind him.

"Oh, this is bloody _wonderful!_ "

Chell couldn't smother the small smile creeping over her tan features when those words echoed throughout the house. Well, he'd looked in them, now it was just a question as to whether or not he would actually like what she'd picked out. It wasn't a bothersome thought for too long, however, considering that just as she finished her first sandwich and began to work on the second, the man had strolled into the kitchen with a sort of confident air she hadn't seen from him yet—it was nearly enough to make her laugh.  
"Well, how do I look? I mean, I'm not one for human fashion or anythin' but uhm—well, you picked it out so, I'm sure it matches an' all, sure it looks good, though, just want to clarify, y'know, make sure—"  
"Wheatley, you look _fine._ "

"Right, yes, that's what I thought but I um—didn't add the tie to the mix, I-I like it though, really I did I just couldn't um—I couldn't really tie it because of my arm—of course I know _how to_ I just wasn't capable of doin' it at the moment." Right, so it looked like that was another thing she was going to have to teach him. "Anyway, these aren't really as comfortable as the other thing I was in but um, that was just night ware, yea? It's odd, really, how many different items of clothing you wear in one day but—um, I guess I understand why it was nice to sleep in that rather than the pants I had on. Uh—did you—?"  
Chell didn't need him to finish that sentence for her to see where it was going, and she simply gave him a nod of the head as she flipped the grilled cheese over in the pan. Of course, pajamas had been added to the mix. He seemed to most certainly perk up yet again with that confirmation. Even though he thought the nightgown was, in fact, comfortable, he most certainly wouldn't have wanted to wear it had she told him it was a woman's gown. Either way, he seemed to be thrilled with the outfit he currently had on and she could only imagine he'd felt the same way about the rest, that is if he'd even bothered to look at them. Either way, she was happy to see him in fresh clothing—those khaki pants and button-up shirt were much better than the dirty jeans and bloodstained sweat-shirt he'd arrived in. She hated to admit it but as she looked him over now she couldn't help but notice how he actually was beginning to look, well, _normal_ ; whether that was good or bad, now that was a subject up for debate.

Despite Chell's very gentle urging to change out of that brand new white shirt, Wheatley was adamant about keeping the thing on. He had even slipped a few slight hints that he would have liked Chell to go and retrieve the blue tie she had purchased and fix it around his neck, though instead of doing that she'd picked up their dirtied plates and actually decided it was time to wash the dishes. Of course, Wheatley was rather disappointed that he hadn't received any sort of response in regard to his sly request hidden within short and nonchalant remarks. Or, rather, he was more or less disappointed with her lack of answer more than anything. He understood he would be changing soon anyhow but he didn't see the harm in it. When he noticed the Lady had begun to leave the room, however, and head for her own bedroom he shook himself out of those thoughts and instead shifted his focus to her.

"W-Wait! You're not going to your room already are you? But—you just got home! Usually you stay up a little longer, right?" But she had given no answer; instead, she left him alone in the kitchen once more. He was, however, rather surprised when she had returned with what seemed to be a book in her hand and—he couldn't quite tell what that other thing was but he didn't care to be quite honest. He was actually happy that she came back out—it at least meant he'd be able to spend some more time with her! He quickly pushed himself out of his chair and wandered over to watch as she grabbed the bottom of his bed and quickly folded it back up into a couch. Her book was then placed down, and it was only then did she turn back to face the former-core and patted the opposite end of the couch from where he assumed she would be seated. Of course, he did as she wished, and sat himself down in that open spot.  
"Oh, this is weird, sittin' on it like this, yea? I almost forgot it was a seat, actually, only really saw it as a bed, an' all. This is rather nice now that I think about it, a lot neater, except for the blanket and pillow on the floor now but um—yes, not too bad, not too shabby at all, really AUGH—WHAT?"

Large hands had clawed at the device now placed over his ears—honestly, Chell had enact for startling the poor man. She was so bloody _quiet_ and she always managed to sneak up on him like that! Once he found it was just a pair of headphones, he at least found himself calm down the slightest bit. He still couldn't quite make out the device she held in her hands, though his attention was diverted the moment a voice began to hit his ears, a voice that most certainly was not her own.

"How—What is this thing? A little robot or somethin'? You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack Lady, honestly, at least give me some sort of alarm before you go and shove things on my head!"  
Chell had pressed one of the several buttons on the machine she held and Wheatley found that he no longer could hear that pleasant voice on the other side of the headphones. He didn't know why, but it was almost upsetting. Though it was through that action that he had realized how very loud he'd been yelling—well, through that and the face the Lady was currently giving him as she stood so very close to his own form. Right, she didn't like yelling, did she?

"It's a CD player." She had begun to explain, though he could tell there was a certain sharpness to her voice—woops. "I remembered I had some audio books around and I know you wanted to read. Well now you don't have to, you can just listen to this instead. I know you can't really see the buttons so—here." She had grabbed his hand at this point, guiding it along and watching as he squinted in some desperate attempt to see the shapes etched onto them. "It's actually pretty easy. This big one in the middle is pause and play; this one underneath will stop it entirely. The two arrows here on either side will rewind or fast forward. That's about all you need to know." And with that she had picked herself up and took her place at the edge of the couch, scooping up her own paperback book and finally getting to read after she had left the poor thing to collect dust for so very long.

After blue hues watched the tanned woman intently for a few moments only to draw her own slightly irritated gaze he found them quickly shift and meet with the device now in his hands. Now, what had she said? Was this?—the big one, yes. A thumb quickly pressed the button and the voice sprung to life once more.

"Wow, that really is brilliant, probably great for people who really can't see—I mean, I s'pose I fall into that category but—well I can still see _shapes,_ that must count for somethin'. Anyway, at least I'll have somethin' to do now while you're gone! And I guess this is the same as readin', it's nice to hear it—do they do voices? I hope they do, it'd make it interestin', sort of disappointing if they don't—hey what book is this anyway—"

" _Wheatley._ "

"Oh, right, sorry, I'll be quiet now, listen to the story, take it in, won't hear another peep out of me—right, sorry again. Silence starts now." And he had managed to fulfill that statement at least for the time being.

Chell couldn't help but find her gaze lifting up every now and then to take a glance at the overjoyed face of the male beside her. Looking back on it, this had been the first time she'd ever seen him so genuinely happy, and not to mention content. She was happy she was able to find some clothing for him, and even more so that she'd remembered about that old thing that'd been wasting away in her closet, at least someone was getting some joy out of it. She had already done so very much for him and yet there was still more that concerned her, something that was a bit more important than some silly recording to keep him busy.

"I'm off tomorrow. I think I'm going to go out into town for a little bit." She was surprised to see how very quick he'd been to silence the machine when she'd begun talking. Did he really appreciate her words that much?—no, unimportant. "I want you to come with me."

There was hardly any hesitation in his answer, which was hardly any surprise, of course.

"Really—are you sure? I mean, taking me out, that is. I didn't really think you'd want me to go out, or well, at least go out with me because of—well, I don't really know why other than that you don't—don't um…"

"I want you to come with me, Wheatley. It's fine."

He seemed to roll this thought around in his mind for a short while before a smile crossed his features—that signature large and goofy grin she was becoming accustomed to.

"Okay, if you really want me to then I guess it'll be nice! I mean, I've seen a lot of the outside, didn't really like it, very messy. Then again, a lot of it I was sort of just limpin' around and gettin' odd looks or not seein' anyone at all. It will be good to see other things, yes, I think it will be a good day then."

With that settled the woman had picked herself up and motioned for him to move off of the couch so that she could make up his bed once more. He concluded that now it really was time for bed, but he wasn't particularly complaining. Honestly, he felt some tiredness clinging to his being now that he thought about it. Once she had finished he had made a move to lie down before she gave him an odd look, glancing over his being only for him to realize she expected him to change out of his clothing. It was also during this time that she'd showed him how to brush his teeth and told him he needed to do it twice a day to which he could only think of what a bother it was being human. They had so many things to take care of and look out for it was irritating. He didn't know how they did it! Either way, once he had finished up he was more than happy to flop in bed (careful of that wrapped arm of course) and wrap the blankets around his thin form. As Chell wandered into the kitchen and checked the locks as well as flipped the lights off he once again gave her his chipper goodnight, and yet again she found herself stopping and staring. Wheatley didn't know what that look she gave him meant, but what he did know was that he didn't particularly care.

"Night." And that had been enough to truly make his day.

Chell could only find an amused grin cross her face when she saw the way he beamed at her gentle goodnight. It had been so quiet, so clipped and yet he still got so much joy from it. As she tucked herself in she still couldn't fathom how very much it meant to him to hear her speak. It was flattering, and she most certainly hoped that joy remained up until the morning. While it was true she was heading out, it was for a more important reason to just 'go into town'. As she flicked the lamp next to her bed off she could only hope that Wheatley didn't hate doctors _too_ much, because she really wanted to get that arm checked out, as well as the wound upon his abdomen. Oh well, no use stressing about it now. That was a worry for the following day.


	5. Terror

"You lied to me."

"I never lied to you."

"Yes you did, and you know you did. You said you wanted to go out into town, which I assumed you meant that we'd be havin' a bit of fun, goin' about an' enjoyin' ourselves not comin' _here_ of all places so you can watch as people prod an' poke at me all willy nilly without a care in the world. Honestly, it's harassment, that's what it is and I don't know how you humans deal with this all the time because if I were you I'd already be fed up. I've had enough of this for one day, thank you, so let's just go ahead and leave then yea? They really won't miss us, an' the door's right there an' all; it's not like they didn't already give me the once over so—"

" _Wheatley._ "

"I'm just saying that I don't actually _have_ to—" But there was absolutely no negotiating this. Chell's look said it all, and Wheatley was quickly coming to find that when she said something she most certainly meant it.

Wheatley just didn't understand why she was so very adamant about him visiting a doctor. He had given his consent when visiting the op—optem—er, the glasses doctor, as Chell had explained when he struggled to remember the name of the doctor for the nth time that morning. Heck, he had even had some joy out of visiting that place! Plus, a visit to _that_ doctor meant he'd actually be able to see soon enough which would also lead to him finally being able to enjoy the cascade of books the Lady had on her bookshelf. This visit, however, was simply unpleasant and something Wheatley did not want to deal with. The doctor had looked over nearly every inch of his body, not to mention he had decided to prod at the former core's injured parts and he did not enjoy that even the slightest bit. Though, he supposed it wasn't just human doctors that unsettled him.

Scientists were the source of angst brought about during this visit; at least that's what Wheatley had chalked it up to. And besides, weren't they practically the same thing? Scientists were just doctors for robots—they dealt with metal rather than the squishy human parts. However, the poking and prodding aspect remained the same on both sides of the spectrum, it seemed. Looking back on it now, he supposed this doctor wasn't exactly as bad as those scientists. They had taken little care in fixing him—oh, he was just some stupid little robot; he was expendable. At least this one was more delicate.

When the fomer-core had _finally_ seemed to relax it was all but short-lived, for the white-coated man had entered the room once more only moments later. It had only seemed to unnerve him further when he saw the attentiveness the Lady gave him. Chell was no idiot; she could read Wheatley like a book and she saw the blatant discomfort painted across every inch of his body. She supposed that was the reason they'd ended up in the hallway leaving the man to simmer down.

"The only serious injury is that gunshot wound he suffered on his abdomen. There aren't any signs of infection; I would take care to keep it clean and I would like him to come back so we can keep an eye on it." And Chell had been able to breathe once more.  
If she had been honest, that had been the area she was most concerned about. Everything else the doctor had to say seemed to fall on somewhat deaf ears. Dislocated shoulder, that she had heard, and that he'd only need to wear the sling for about two more weeks before his arm would be back in use. Then there had been the question of his eye. It was functional, though she already knew that much, but he'd gone on to state that there should be little to no scarring due to the wound's superficiality. All of these things were positive and it all meant that he would be back on his feet and fully functional in no time.

"And you said he absolutely had not seen a physician before coming here?" That had been enough to snap Chell out of her daze and she found her head slowly shaking to and fro.  
"No, no he didn't see anyone—at least not a physician."  
"Well, he was lucky. Whoever it was he ran into knew what they were doing. They took good care of him—there's not much else for us to do besides keep an eye on him."  
And with that, she'd thanked the doctor for his time and re-entered the room only to find the eager patient with his coat half thrown over his good arm and a concerned look over his pasty features. He had gone to ask a question but even the sight of Chell's lips moving silenced him on the spot.

"Everything checked out okay. We can leave now."  
Wheatley's thrilled reaction was obviously anticipated and it took a lot out of the woman to conceal the smile that had been threatening to cross her face. She instead preoccupied herself with fixing the haphazardly applied jacket resting on the man's shoulders and decided it was best to simply listen to him prattle on once more.  
"I still don't see why we had to come here—er, but it's nice that it's over, anyway, no one else havin' to prod and poke at me is a good thing. Well, besides you, I suppose, but that's alright you're always careful about it so that's okay!" He flashed a nervous grin with that as though he expected her to be upset. Chell's face hardly flinched and it was for that reason he saw it fit to continue.  
"I remember when the scientists used to poke around like that; very uncomfortable for everyone—or, well, maybe not for them. There aren't many consequences for manhandling a piece of machinery. The worst that happens down there is that a slightly functional machine is now slightly less functional than before. Or you make them really mad like with—with um, well y'know, with _Her."_

"With GLaDOS." The name was so nonchalant; the way it effortlessly rolled off the tip of her tongue caused Wheatley to physically recoil as though he'd been struck. It genuinely surprised the woman and she found herself pulling back ever so slightly at first with the fear she'd managed to harm him. With a few moments to reflect, however, she found that it was the very mention of that AI that had thrown him for a loop.

She hadn't been entirely sure why, but the action had filled her with a sort of indescribable feeling; sadness, perhaps? She was aware of the fact that the core had always avoided saying the AI's name aloud, and yes he'd always been terrified of her very name but before now she'd never been able to see the extent of that fear. She had known that indescribable terror once, could relate to it and truth be told, it shook her to the core. Chell had always been good at masking her emotions, especially with that apparent muteness she was known for, but deep down she'd felt the grip of fear on her heart when facing off with that AI, and even months after her escape. For so long she'd found she was still at the mercy of the AI; she'd encountered so many sleepless nights, so many moments where a flashing light had scared her to the core or a distinct whir had caused her jumping back for fear of being pumped with bullets. It had taken her well over a few years to truly let her past go. Wheatley's wounds were still fresh, and they were certainly much more severe than her own. While Chell could be a harsh individual, she could recognize where to draw the line, and while she realized she would need to help him through that she decided that it was best now to leave him be.

"I still have a bit more I need to get done before we can go back to my house." It was the only way she could think to make things better; to drop the subject entirely before she could reach out and finish buttoning up the coat.  
It was obvious that Wheatley was apprehensive, and she could see the sort of shifty-eyed glare she was receiving as he tried to figure out just what she meant by that. As soon as her grey hues lifted to meet his own gaze he quickly averted, and she could see the momentary panic on his features. Then it had been her turn to smirk.

"It's not another doctor," she said to at least reassure the man and began to lead him out the door before continuing, "I have to go grocery shopping. I can survive on canned soup and easy meals but I doubt you can." Or should—the thought raced through her mind but she didn't dare allow that to pass her lips. It would be bad for someone recovering from such intense injuries; it wasn't as if she cared. At least that was what she was telling herself. "I don't need too much—but enough so that I can make dinner for at least the rest of the week."

After she finished her explanation Wheatley was left to watch as Chell spoke with a woman behind some counter and was left to wonder what on earth a grocery store was. Well—alright, he at least knew half of the word, of course he knew was a _store_ was but what on earth was a _grocery?_ It almost sounded as though it were some foreign concept, something he'd never be able to truly grasp. If anything, being on the surface was truly eye-opening to him (he almost laughs at this thought because, wow, that was funny and darn he wished he'd said it out loud!) because in only a few short days he'd come to learn how truly clueless he was about the entire world around him. It was a scary thought, really, to think of how very long he'd been around for and yet there was so very little he'd managed to see. And with that brilliant little thing the Lady—Chell, had shown him; that audio player was fantastic or even this _grocery_ store she mentioned; all of this seemed so second nature to her. All of this was common to the human world and he was ignorant to all of it. It made him question how he'd ever managed to, well, manage the human population down there at all!

Wheatley was pulled out of his daze when he managed to catch sight of Chell giving him an odd look and he began to wonder just how long she'd been waiting for him. He couldn't help but flash a nervous grin and was more than happy to see himself out of this horrid place.

"What _is_ a grocery store? I mean, I know I'll see in a short while, walkin' there now an' all but uh—I think I would rather like to be prepared for this one."  
Chell shot a side-glance at the taller male and she could tell he was already expecting the worst out of the place. She couldn't help but notice how often he seemed to do such and, for some reason, it left a weight in her stomach that she would appreciate getting rid of.  
"It's where you buy food." She could see him relax with even those few words and suddenly the weight was gone. That small voice was still in the back of her head, questioning why her first instinct was to care about the taller male, to find herself concerned about his well-being and thoughts after all he had done. And yet she still found that was the first thing her mind would roam to. For once she had been more than happy that Wheatley had begun talking once more, distracting her from her current thought process.

"Oh, well that seems simple enough. But why groceries, I mean, that's such an odd word isn't it? Why not just call it the bloody _food store_ I mean it seems much simpler, doesn't it? Y'know, thinkin' about it, there are a lot of words that really don't explain what they mean at all. What does grocery have to do with food at all? Huh—? What, why are you laughing?"

Chell couldn't help but find herself thoroughly amused with Wheatley's thought process. Though she had tried desperately to keep herself composed he had finally managed to crack her icy exterior once more. It wasn't exactly seen as an accomplishment, however, and instead, the former core found himself fretting over the action.

"You have a point." Was her simple response and she allowed her shoulders to rise and fall accordingly. "It is a weird term. I would think it has something to do with grocers but I'm not entirely sure."

Wheatley was, admittedly, somewhat shocked to find that there was something Chell hadn't known, and even with his best efforts some of that wonder was expressed over his features. It hadn't gone unnoticed, but Chell had decided to ignore it anyhow. Even Wheatley knew that the Lady couldn't know _everything._ Even he hadn't known everything as a tiny bot; he constantly had to run data and research words and topics to succeed in Aperture. Well, alright, perhaps succeed was a strong word, _get by_ was better in his situation.

The inside of the store was somewhat awe-inspiring to a man who had never seen a single grocery store in his life; even if it wasn't the biggest nor fanciest. Chell knew the store like the back of her hand and even Wheatley could recognize this as she entered the building. The building seemed to lose it's lackluster as he, instead, began to observe the Lady.

Now that he really thought about it, this could have been the first time she had ever entered this store and he would be none the wiser. Chell was such a brilliant woman and had such a divine air of confidence around her that completely riveted the former core. She would enter a chamber and act as though she had owned the place, as though she had seen it a hundred times, as though she had _built_ the bloody thing with the amount of confidence she spewed. She was made of raw determination, an unbreakable will that he had never seen before. He remembers how impressed he had been to finally find a human who had not only survived but _thrived_. A human who had not only found the portal gun but who had been a master, who had acted like she had wielded the thing for years. She was willing to take him with her without a second thought and the pain in his chest was suddenly unbearable once again. Chell was everything he wasn't. Why did she ever even bother helping him after everything he had done?

Why did he even have to keep thinking about it?

The thought of apologizing had crossed his mind again but he had been thankfully interrupted when Chell had wrapped a hand around his sleeve and tugged him along. Apparently, she had been concerned with losing him or something, which is surprising to him, he doesn't quite understand how that could happen in a store like this but he obliges nevertheless. The worry doesn't dissipate even with his compliance and it's for that reason Chell had decided she needed to keep Wheatley preoccupied. It had been a silly shopping cart, and yet she knew he would be enthralled with the thing.

One thing Chell quickly came to realize was that Wheatley was incredibly _stubborn_ when it came to things he enjoyed. Pushing a cart with only one arm had proved to be quite the challenge but Wheatley was determined to make it work. It made Chell's shopping much slower, and had also lead to several incidents in which a booted foot was run over causing for sharp glares and sorry looks but eventually, he had gotten the hang of it. And with Wheatley stuck to the cart, Chell could focus less on him and more on what they needed.

"I realize there isn't really _much_ t'this cart, y'know, just some metal on wheels but it's an interestin' little thing! At first, I really thought, 'What's so great about this? Little box with wheels it just holds stuff this will just be chores' but, really, I'm gettin' a kick out of it! Do other people enjoy pushing these around too?"

Yes, _children_ was the first thought that came to mind but Chell quickly pushed it to the back of her head and gave him a simple nod. She could see it made him somewhat happy and she decided it was the better answer. They began moving again and she had found that holding onto the front of the cart was the best way to assure that neither of her feet were getting run over and the man wasn't running into anything else. She had been somewhat thankful for his lack of sight and mobility at that moment because otherwise, she was sure he would have been gone in mere seconds. Even with these handicaps, he was still meandering through the isles when Chell turned her back, straining to see the various items lining the wall and pointing out the small knickknacks throughout the isles asking just what exactly they were.

There had been a particular air of hesitation about him as they had lingered in one isle; yet again the thought of youth popped into her mind. He had wanted to try a box of cookies, and as a nervous child would, stood beside them, loudly stating facts he had heard and that he'd seen the scientists eating them and always wondered what they tasted like; everything but directly asking for them must have been said and eventually they found their way into the shopping cart. She could already see the difficulty that would become shopping but for the time being, she decided she would let it slide. There were more important things to worry about; there were always more important things to worry about.

Once more Wheatley had found himself surprised when he found out just how much groceries _cost._ After Chell had taken the majority of the bags (she had went to take all of them but Wheatley had insisted on taking one himself), he had made sure their walk home was filled with a heart-filled stance on the situation.

"I mean _really."_ Chell wasn't entirely sure how much she had missed, but she was positive she had missed a huge chunk of what he had been saying. She still had trouble keeping up with everything the male had to say. Wheatley's brain had the fastest thought process on that side of the hemisphere, if not in the entire world. She had also had to admit that, even after the past few days, she still found it hard to completely listen to everything he was spouting off. At least she had tuned in now, that was how she saw it.

"You need food to _survive_ it's a basic need how on earth could they make you pay so much? Everyone could just grow their own food, really, then no one would have to pay for anything and everything wouldn't cost so bloody much, yea? Surely farming isn't that hard, I'm sure if you read a few books we could definitely start a little farm, and then we'd be the ones laughing! Not having to pay for—for those overpriced things."

It was impractical, and she had wanted to laugh once more but at the very least it kept her preoccupied on the chilly walk home, which seemed shorter than her usual treks to the grocery store. Putting away the food also went much quicker with two—or, well, two and a half sets of hands, something Chell had to admit she was grateful for. While the shopping had taken a bit longer, she couldn't particularly complain. The two could enjoy a fresh meal because of it and even had the chance to retire on the couch once more. Chell found her mind wandering yet another night, hazel eyes lingered on the male, all too happy to listen to that dingy little audio book resting on his lap. There was still something gnawing at her being and she was unsure whether it was something she would tackle. But just as Wheatley had proved to have a bit of stubbornness, Chell could most certainly double it. She sat up, drawing the cores attention and even caused him to pull the headphones off his ears. Her gut clenched; the look he gave her was of the utmost respect; why was everything she said so damn important?

"You can call her GLaDOS, you know."  
The name cut through the silence and, apparently, cut through Wheatley as would a hot knife through butter. He was mortified she had uttered the name, disgusted it entered such a safe place and, overall, terrified at the very mention of the AI, even with her being so very far apart. A range of emotions graced his pale features and caused Chell to momentarily regret mentioning it. But she didn't back down, not this time.

"She's gone. She doesn't bother with people up here, only people who get too close to that god damn shed or even near any other exits to that place. GLaDOS is down there and we're up here. That's it. It's just a name anyway, a name can't hurt you. God knows she wouldn't dare."

Chell even found herself caught off guard with that last statement and she honestly had to admit it took her a moment to really search for the meaning behind her words. She found herself falling back on her silence once more, thriving off it, submerging herself in it. Even as she pulled out the futon and set it up for the other her head had been reeling, her lips tightly pursed. A muted sign of goodnight was given and she quickly retreated into bed and lay there wondering just what she had said to the core.

It hadn't been so much that she was threatening her to come to get _him_ but more so her even daring to try and creep up into the human world, into _her_ world. If there had been one thing about Chell, it had been the fact that she was exceedingly diligent. She was keen, always finely tuned with her surroundings. She was always on guard, watching, listening for even the tiniest rumor that GLaDOS had dared to breech the sanctity she had had here on the surface. Aperture was a hell unknown to these people, it was a place of suffering all hidden under the guise of 'scientific research'. As much as Chell had wanted to simply destroy the whole damn facility, she was painfully aware of the fact that it was impossible. There was no destroying GLaDOS entirely, no wiping out the facility without destroying hundreds, if not thousands of lives. She was an incredible force to be reckoned with. There were nights Chell lay awake thinking about it, about her situation, about how she'd ever managed to _survive_ let alone escape.

Yes, Chell had been skilled, but she never could shake the feeling that a lot of her success had simply amounted to luck. Her reflexes were quick, her mind worked on the drop of a dime but had that really saved her? GLaDOS slipped up; she was lucky. Otherwise, she never could have taken her down. Wheatley had swooped in to save her last minute; she couldn't even imagine what the AI had had in store for her had the little core not sprung her out of the testing track when he had. Wheatley had gone rogue; it was the only reason she lay where she had now. Chell's own moral compass had also played a part in the decision. Yes, the facility would have been destroyed and, as a result, both her and GLaDOS would currently be buried in rubble that lead thousands of miles under the earth's surface. Even small things; a shaky landing, one where she just barely missed that acid pit below. A delayed portal, a bullet that just barely grazed her; how many times had luck saved her life?

So, yes, she had eventually concluded that she would prefer not to take GLaDOS on. She held an air of distaste, of courage and strong-will in the presence of the Queen. She dared the AI to even try and cross her again because she knew that GLaDOS had grown to respect her abilities as a human being, and perhaps, had grown tired of an unpredictable test subject. But deep down Chell had to admit she was still scared. She feared the AI, because she knew damn well what she was capable of and it was a fear that would never fade.

She wasn't quite sure when she dozed off, but after thoughts like those certainly, no sweet dreams were to follow.

 _"NO! No no no! AUGH!"_

 _This was a scene all too familiar to the test subject, or at least, a voice that was. Her eyes searched the white room fiercely, looking for the source of the sound but the small core wasn't anywhere in sight. Another scream filled the room and Chell suddenly finds herself kicking into gear, she's on auto pilot now; she knows these chambers, knows this game, this dance of death and good God the screaming is only getting worse. Where is it coming from? What is she_ _ **doing**_ _to him? They had just wanted to escape, all he had done was turn her on what the hell did she want from him?_

 _"NO GOD PLEASE, NO MAKE IT STOP!"_

 _She finishes the chamber, two, three, she's never completed so many in such a short time before but she's growing no closer. There's no insults, the room is too quiet, she feels like she's suffocating—_

 _"STOP STOP_ **NO!"**

Chell had awoken with quite the start. It was a blood curdling scream that had finally set her mind back on track and what had sent her flying into the living room to check on the source of anguish.

Wheatley had been thrashing about like a mad man, screaming broken phrases and sentences that had genuinely alarmed the woman. She had been caught frozen for a moment, watching the horror unfold. Reality was quick to kick in when her eyes finally landed on his arm, and her thoughts on his abdomen. His name rung out through the night, rung out through the screams but he continued to thrash and fight for his life, from what she wasn't certain but she had a sickening guess. Again, she called, a hand shook his shoulder but it only seemed to enrage his fit and she was sure he was going to further his injuries at this rate. She finally ended up on the bed with him, tanned hands cupping his eerily white face.

" _WHEATLEY!"_

Blue eyes shot open, meeting with a pair of strong hazel ones staring back at them. The gaze was firm, unwavering, and Chell could see it took a few moments for the realization to completely take hold of the male. There was, however, one thing in those eyes that shook her to the core. Chell had never seen such unadulterated fear in Wheatley's eyes. No, no that was a lie, there had been one time where she had seen so much terror, so much pure fear.

 _Strong hands held firmly onto a pair of handles; exhaustion gnawed at the test subject's very being but she had refused to let go. Why—why on earth was she holding on after everything he had done? He had just tried to murder her, had thrown every insult he could think at her, had wanted_ _ **her**_ _to be the one to go into space, to die a horrible,_ _ **horrible**_ _death and yet she_ _ **still held on.**_ _But that eye, that sudden realization, all his emotions hit him like a whirlwind the moment he'd been disconnected from the chassis. There was so much fear, so much_ _ **terror**_ _displayed in a single optical. It caused her grip to tighten, caused her to hold onto him for dear life despite all the trauma he'd caused because oh_ _ **God**_ _if she let him go now he was gone forever._

 _"Hold onto me! Tighter!"_

 _And then he was knocked out of her hands, fear laced in his tone, urgency as his voice drifted farther and farther away—she reached in vain, was pulled away._

 ** _"GRAB ME GRAB ME GRAB ME!"_**

Her grip instinctively tightened around his face and thumbs found themselves gently caress his cheeks. She decided to ignore the tears threatening to fall down his terror-stricken face.

It had taken him some time to calm down, but it seemed that with Chell around it made it easier on him. She hadn't been fond of how paranoid he had suddenly become, and how he insisted on all the curtains being closed, just to be safe, and yet immediately grew anxious as soon as Chell had left once more. They sat for a while, in silence, in the dim light that the small lamp beside the sofa provided with Chell cross-legged on the sofa and Wheatley, hanging his legs over the side, sitting up uncomfortably upright for Chell's liking. Once the situation seemed to calm down substantially, a voice finally rose, a gentle one; one Wheatley was unaccustomed to hearing.

"What did she do to you, Wheatley?"

Chell watched, albeit it out of the corner of her eye, but she was ever vigilant. She instantly recognized it was something he didn't want to talk about. His muscles tensed, his eyes shifted to the other side of the room, his hand clenched the sheets beneath its grasp. She was unsure whether her question would even elicit a response; odd, certainly for Wheatley. Chell followed in suit, to some degree, and soon her legs hung from the bed as well, bare feet brushing the cool wood beneath.

"A lot, I presume?"

He nods.

"Even as a core?"

He paused, inhaled sharply, gaze stuck to a corner of the room. Eventually, he gave another nod.

Chell sat silently for a few moments, before shooing the male off the bed. The sofa soon resumed its position in the room and after disappearing a few moments, Chell returned with an extra blanket and pillow. While she knew he couldn't exactly see it that well, the woman flipped the television on and the two curled up on the couch, resting against their pillows and watching the tv.

There was a lot of work that needed to be done, but there was no use in forcing it. Wheatley would work through it in time. Right now, he just needed some silent understanding; that was something Chell just so happened to excel at.

"She made me test. After she made me like this, obviously. I fell and my glasses broke—shattered, really. And the turrets—" he stoped talking after that, gaze set on the television. "I'm so sorry. I really am so sorry."

Chell gave a nod in response.

She was not ready for forgiveness but he took a step. It will take some time for her to do the same.


	6. Revelations

Days had turned to weeks, and weeks into a month and before Chell knew it Wheatley found himself back to normal once more. While it had been uplifting to see him finally able to move and fall and basically _exist_ without any fear he'd break any further, she also came to find it was extremely problematic having him with such sudden mobility. When his glasses had come in he had been content with reading most everything around the house, and he finally had taken an interest in the television. This, of course, hadn't proven to be too much trouble; it kept him preoccupied and gave him something to do while she was away at work.

But when the arm was freed, and his side was healed-that was when the trouble began.

Chell couldn't necessarily be _angry_ with him; he had just regained mobility that she was almost positive he'd only had for a short period of time, to begin with. She couldn't blame him for growing restless and wanting to try out new things. And, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt, most times he was actually trying to help around the house. He had never intended to cause more problems. She was even beginning to find he was leaving the house more often.

Wheatley had pitched the largest fit over the change of the weather which, for the most part, had kept him confined to the home. When Chell had picked up a jacket for the male, however, it seemed to give him the push he needed. She was surprised to find him waiting for her at work one day, bundled up and flashing a doofy grin. He still complained about the weather and the cold, but she found it was becoming routine. She couldn't find any complaints; it made walking home a little bit more enjoyable-even she had to admit the company was welcomed.

There was, however, one stipulation that Chell decided it was best to make good on. Wheatley most likely wouldn't be pleased, but she wasn't backing down.

A newspaper was placed in the man's lap, pulling him from the show he was currently watching on the TV-or the tele as he typically referred to it as. He seemed perplexed for a moment, and he made sure to show his confusion to the Lady before him.

"Uh, what's this? I mean I _know_ what this is, a newspaper, obviously; _why_ did you put it on me, I guess is the more appropriate question, yea? Unless you brought it for me to read then, thank you! I'll get to it later, actually, don't really want to read about how the economy is slipping now-whatever that means, really, but it seems depressing either way-"

Wheatley was cut off from his rambling when a tanned finger pointed at the red circle upon the paper's face.

He picked it up after that and examined the item in question.

"The supermarket? It's a lovely little place but I don't really see why you felt the need to circle it! Unless you're really passionate about food. I guess I would have to be too-need it to survive and all."

The look on Chell's face showed she was more than amused by his statement, and her arms found themselves crossing over her chest.

"You're passionate about food?"

"We'll uh-yes?"

"Great, because I got you a job there."

And with that Chell had turned on her feet and made her way into the kitchen.

Wheatley was left in a state of shock, his face displaying an array of emotions before settling on just one. If he were being honest, it was almost as if his brain suffered a momentary malfunction; something he wasn't even aware humans could undergo. It felt as though gears within his head were grinding and he had trouble comprehending the information laid out before him.

After a few brief moments of reflection, however, his wits returned and he threw himself after Chell.

"Wh-hold on a minute um-what-what exactly do you mean you got me a _job_ just to clarify what may be confusing to me."

By this point Chell had taken to washing the usual overflowing pile of dishes that resided in the sink, leaving Wheatley gawking behind her. She hadn't even needed to see his face to guess it's current position.

"You know what a job is, Wheatley."

He can't argue because, _yes_ , of course he knows what a _job_ is, he's had plenty of them, but that certainly isn't what he meant.

"Well, yes, of course I know what a job is but I mean I don't know the human standards for having a job and I don't know if I could actually handle that, what with still getting used to things and I don't want to mess anything up because this body is hard to control!"

"You don't seem to have trouble around here. Believe me, this isn't going to be too much for you to handle."

It was disheartening to know how well the Lady knew him. She always had a comeback to anything he could possibly think of saying. That certainly had not discouraged the male, however, and he was quick to recover.

"But I wouldn't-I mean I had so many jobs back there and every time they just fired me and moved me somewhere else and here I can't do that. Word spreads and back then I was a little robot that a lot of money went into that was still _relatively_ functional, so they couldn't just _scrap_ me or anythin', had to keep me doin' somethin' when nobody else really could. But that wouldn't work here. I just don't want to mess it up."

That had been enough to pull Chell from her current action. She knew Wheatley's excuses well enough to know when he was being genuine and it had caused a pain to rise in her chest to hear him speak the way he had. Shit. She allowed a sigh to pass her lips before she turned to face the other.

"Wheatley, you're not going to get fired. Look-I know the owner. He's a good guy and he understands the circumstances-your injuries. I told him some things about you and he said he'd be more than happy to have an extra set of hands. You're just going to get bored around here anyway. It will be ok. I promise."

While he still seemed adamant about the situation, she could tell he was at least somewhat consoled. She took one last look at him before turning back to her previous activity, leaving Wheatley to flash through a few more emotions before speaking up again.

"Well, if you're sure. I guess it would get pretty boring sitting around here all the time but well, I still don't know the area _that_ well-an', now that I'm thinking about it-"

"We can still walk home together, Wheatley."

And with that, a grin had taken hold of his features. He was pacified, at least for the time being. Though, there was a pit in the bottom of Chell's stomach that made her question whether this decision had been the right one. But she didn't back down; Wheatley was a human now, and a grown man; he could live life like any normal person. Besides, him living in her home without doing anything would have been suspicious. It just didn't look right. She pushed the thought out of her mind and instead took to focusing on the housework.

Everything would work out. She was sure of it.

On their way to work, Wheatley found himself completely overwhelmed with all he suddenly had pushed upon him. In retrospect, Chell probably should have been more upfront with the situation she had created for him. She wasn't lying when she said things would be okay but-well, she had had to explain Wheatley's presence in the town and, more importantly, in her home.

In her defense, what he had told people wasn't exactly a _lie_ but perhaps it wasn't entirely truthful. But how could she ever really describe their relationship? No one would ever believe a word that left her mouth; at times she even reflected on just how unworldly her experiences had truly been. It would have pushed her right back to square one; right back to that jumpy, mute girl who hid within her shell for far too long. Besides, some slight untruths weren't going to hurt anybody. While she wasn't thrilled with the thought, she didn't have time to dwell on a guilty conscience. Her and Wheatley were quickly approaching their destination.

"Wheatley, I need to fill you in on something. I may have told a few fibs to get you this job."

Wheatley seemed—appalled would most likely be the best way to put it. Chell lying were two words he never thought would be strung together within the same sentence. Well, unless it was something along the lines of someone else was lying _to_ Chell. But her being the perpetrator was shocking to him. She didn't appreciate the look of shock on his face, and it was obvious he noticed because it was soon wiped from his features. Instead, he found his hands wringing together, and his sights landed on her.

"Uh what-what exactly did you say? I mean, so I'm not caught off guard, you know?"

Chell sighed, and she carefully brushed a piece of hair from her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear.

"We used to work together. But you got promoted and you acted like a total a-" she quickly stopped herself, and found her lips pursing. Right, perhaps those weren't the right words to use in front of him.

"Well, you didn't exactly treat me great, so I walked out. I hadn't seen you in years, but you were in an accident and, considering you have no family, I agreed to take you in. I told him you're still adjusting to this sort of life and still healing from the accident so he should take it easy on you."

Wheatley had very obvious mixed emotions regarding just what she had told his new boss because, really, it wasn't exactly a lie. However, it did cause the familiar sinking feeling to return. It was eerily similar to the truth and he found himself suddenly perturbed, an odd look crossing his pale features. He did his best to try and forget what had happened all those years ago, what he had done. But now that he thought of it, he had never really earned her forgiveness, she had never made any move to show he was absolved of his previous actions. It only caused more guilt to rise in his chest.

She was still giving him a home, a warm bed to sleep in, clothing, meals-she gave him practically everything even after all he had done. The least he could do was take this job she'd set up for him and work as hard as he could. He at least owed her that much.

"Are you alright?"

Wheatley was visibly startled by the voice and was left gawking at the woman for a few brief moments before he snapped out of his daze. He hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking in the process. He quickly made his way back to Chell's side and passed a sheepish look.

"Sorry." Was his timid response.

"It's fine. I get it, your nervous."

"No, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for all that I did before. I'm really truly sorry."

Chell didn't respond that time. Instead, her lips pursed, drew into a thin line, and then she very gently nodded her head just as she had before.

It wasn't what he wanted, but at least he had tried.

It was only a few short minutes after his apology before they arrive at the market, with Chell leading the way. An older man stood near the register, one Wheatley actually recalled seeing before.

He was a tall man but did not match Wheatley's own height. However, what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. He was fit with shaggy brown hair and a scruff on his face to match. Despite his rugged appearance, his eyes were soft, and they took in the lanky man before him. When he was satisfied, his gaze turned back to Chell, and Wheatley noticed the soft smile she gave him in return.

"Good morning, Rick. How are you?" Chell's voice is so soft, it's a tone Wheatley can't help but find himself drawn into. He was still growing used to hearing her speak, even after all that time. It was melodic to him, and this time was no different.

He soon noticed he was being observed once more and it made him want to retreat into himself. His hands clasped and wrung; it was really all he could manage at the moment. That, and a nervous grin, as well as a very vague wave.

"I'm fine, same as always. I'm more interested in your friend, though. I'm assuming you're Wheatley. I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you!"

When a hand was thrust toward Wheatley he knew he had no other choice but to accept. His grip was near bone shattering, and it took all of his being not to allow his smile to falter. When he pulled away he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid grabbing the injured limb. Oh, how pathetic that would make him look!

"It's nice t'meet you too!" Wheatley finally finds himself sputtering, and he could tell Chell was amused with the situation once more by the coy grin that passed her own features.

He didn't know why she felt that way, because he certainly did not find this the least bit amusing.

"I really have to thank you, I haven't worked in a while, actually, so this will be my first job in some time. But uh-! I'm a hard worker so, really, you have nothing to worry about, I'll do my best, whatever you need just say the word an' I'll get it done. You know that old saying, you say jump I'll ask how high? Certainly, like that."

When Rick had begun laughing, Wheatley found himself caught off guard once more. He was only growing more nervous by the second because what on Earth was he missing? Maybe he really wasn't cut out for the human world if he couldn't even pick up on these social cues.

"You really _are_ a talkative one, huh? Chell mentioned that."

Chell, as if knowing it would have brought up some sort of response, decided to interject before Wheatley could get a word in.

"Well, I have to go or I'm going to be late. I'll see you around, Rick."

After she disappeared Wheatley found his heart rate increase tenfold. There had been a point in his life where humans really hadn't fazed him. And yet now, being left alone with a man such as this, seemed agonizing for him. This wasn't what he was cut out for, this was something so entirely foreign to him that he should never have even attempted to act human, to try and blend in, to involve himself in her life.

Rick moved from his spot and Wheatley nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw his figure passing. He stopped when he was a few feet away and gazed back at Wheatley.

"Come on this way. I'm not going to have you do anything too crazy-jeez, you're looking at me like I bite or something. It's alright, there's no need to be so jumpy! I want you to help me stock the shelves, that's all, maybe run the register from time to time. My wife also works here so you won't be overloaded. I really hope you enjoy it here. The last thing I want is for you to be so nervous."

While he had never been one to genuinely appreciate humans, he couldn't help but appreciate what this man had to say. It had been enough to calm his nerves and to even lead him back with him. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, after all.

As Chell made her way back to the market she couldn't manage to shake the nerves building up within her being. Maybe she really had pushed him too hard too quickly-he was obviously uncomfortable. But she was making good on her own word. All he had really done since his return was live off her with the occasional apology. So, really, she shouldn't have felt bad about her decision. Besides, he was a full-grown man who should have had a job. It was a shame she really couldn't convince herself on that one. Wheatley was essentially an overgrown child; there were still certain objects and terms he was oblivious to.

For what it was worth, that quickened her footsteps.

When that messy head of blonde locks met her gaze, she found her nerves rise even higher. The smile on his face, however, caused a calm to wash over her.

"Ah, hello!" It was a shout, and she almost wanted to laugh in response but held back, and instead, she allowed a warm smile to pass instead while she properly approached him.

Chell had gone to ask how things had gone but it seemed Wheatley had beat her to the punch. She decided to turn on her heels and began the walk home as he spoke. It was no surprise when he blindly followed along, babbling on about the day he had experienced.

"It wasn't bad at all! I actually had a relatively good day, which was really—odd, if I'm being honest. I don't think I've ever had a good day at work before. There was always something hectic goin' on before so this was nice. Humans have a lot more room for error, y'know? I mean, I was still made by humans, nothin's perfect, mate, can't be this perfect robot. Not even _She_ was perfect, y'know? I'd hardly count murder as anythin' good—b—sorry."

She had decided to ignore his last bit; he often found ways to bring up unfavorable subjects (more specifically unfavorable to him more than anyone) and she'd learned to simply brush it aside at this stage.

"So, you enjoyed it then?"

"Yes! It wasn't anything terribly hard, and he—Rick, that was his name, right?—was very nice, very considerate. His wife came in a bit later an' I got to talk to her too—Stacey, I believe her name was? Yes, very nice couple, I think I will really like it there, actually."

It was enough to cause Chell to smile. It was nice to know she had done something right, and it was nice to hear Wheatley felt like he fit in somewhere. From the sound of things, he hadn't had a place in quite a while, if ever. But it wasn't as if that was anything new to her. Even back then it was rather apparent he didn't fit in with the rest of the individuals in the underground facility. Nothing down there had ever given her even the slightest inclination that it could be trusted; aside from that one very peculiar turret which to this day she still debated whether she had truly met or not. Either way, she had almost instantly trusted that little blue ball upon their first meeting and to this day she couldn't explain why.

And of course, that had to have been the case. Nothing was simple with her.

"Chell?"

She didn't even miss a beat upon being brought back to reality, and instead, she moved her hands into her pockets, and her gaze remained on the road ahead.

"Sorry, I was thinking about what to make tonight."

"Oh—well, if we ever need anything you could always ask me to get it from here on out!"

Chell sighed in response, and, for a brief moment, allowed a slight grin to toy at her lips.

"Yea, I could. Thank you, Wheatley."

The rest of the night was rather routine; the pair had slipped into a familiar schedule over the past month. Wheatley would set the table while Chell cooked dinner, the two would eat, and after cleaning up, they would end up on the couch together, partaking in their own activities. Wheatley most always found himself preoccupied with a book; often times to be polite to Chell. He had noticed that she preferred reading over the tele, so it was something he had reserved for when she was out, or when she was busying herself with something that didn't require silence.

Wheatley had come to enjoy their evening time together. Even if there were no spoken words between them he would relish the peace and the time spent together. He was coming to find that words really had not needed to be spoken to appreciate someone else's company, and he hoped Chell would feel the same. At the very least he was proud he could show some restraint. It was why he found himself disappointed when Chell had wished him an early goodnight. But he smiled, nonetheless, no longer needing her help with two functioning arms. Chell was often tired from work, and she deserved her alone space as much as he.

As Chell readied herself for bed she couldn't help but replay the events of their first meeting in her mind, and everything that followed. Even as she laid her head to rest she couldn't shake the thoughts from her head, or the question of _why_. Why Wheatley, why had she chosen to trust him above anything else, or really, anything at all? She had met personality cores prior and had had little remorse when disposing of them. But Wheatley had been different. Perhaps it was the humanity within him that drew her to the little core, that gained her trust and her undivided attention. Because, when it really came down to it, Wheatley had been the most humane being Chell had met in Aperture.

It was almost funny when she thought of it; that had been the one thing that drew her to him. If she were being honest, there had been a time where she wholeheartedly believed the two of them would escape together. She had no idea what she would have done with such a bulky core; establishing a life on her own was hard enough, having to do so with such an odd, unexplainable robot would have doubled the issues. But she didn't care back then, all she knew was that she couldn't leave something like Wheatley behind. Not after all he had done for her—not after what she had seen in him.

The moment he had turned on her had ripped her heart out. Tore it to pieces. But she still tried to save him regardless. Because deep down she knew that ungodly fear she had heard just before she let go; she _knew_ that look of pure terror she had briefly seen before he was gone forever—or at least so she thought.

She wanted to save him because deep down she knew there was a good reason to. He wasn't just some hunk of metal, and if she could have saved that she would have.

The screaming draws her from her haze of brief periods of sleep and thought, and Chell finds herself shooting upright, heart pounding against her chest. The numbers on her alarm make her want to gag, but when the shouting doesn't die down, Chell finds herself lunging from her bed and reappearing in the living room.

Unfortunately, this had also come to be somewhat of a habit for the core-made-man. Chell had become accustomed to these nightly episodes and was somewhat upset because Wheatley had been _so good_ as of late. She was surprised, however, to find the blonde already awake and sitting upright with a frantic gaze searching in the direction of the kitchen. It scared Chell, watching his franticness, his fear, and for a moment she stood in silence watching him search. The actions are ones far too familiar to her, and she vaguely wonders if this is how she had been seen so many years ago.

"Wheatley?" She finally speaks up, her voices smooth and calming.

"I saw somethin' s-somethin' in the window, I swear there was—red, little red light an'—an' I thought, oh I thought it was a turret—in the window, but that would be silly an'—blinked so many times but it didn't—it was still _there—_ I don't know—no, it was definitely there I'm awake! I saw it I did, I saw it!"

"Wheatley, it was just a nightmare."

" _No!_ Lady—Chell, listen I saw it, I did, I swear—"

" _ **Wheatley**_ , there's nothing there."

As if to prove her point, Chell had made her way into the kitchen and pulled back the curtains just to prove the total lack of life. Wheatley seemed unconvinced, and it worried her just how shaken he was. She decided it best to completely close the curtains before rejoining him on the couch, as was becoming a habit.

The two sat in silence for some time. Wheatley slowly recovered, his breathing evened out, and before long they were back to normal, both sitting silently on the make-shift bed. Her previous thoughts still mulling in her head, Chell decided that she would take a different approach this evening.

"I used to see that a lot too, you know. In the windows. Everywhere."

Wheatley looked rather surprised by this knowledge, and his blurred gaze turned toward the lady.

"What—no, you?"

Chell simply nodded in response, and it completely shook his beliefs yet again. Wheatley had thought he knew the lady so well; thought he had her down to the science. And each time he believed so she destroyed any preconceived notions. He had believed her to be the strongest person he knew; the fact that she could be haunted by demons was unbelievable to him. But then again; it was so strong of her to admit such. He had been too sheepish to do so, had refused to utter a word. His lips pursed, brows furrowed. It was time little old Wheatley became less predictable. If Chell could talk about it, then so could he.

"I—down there she—I guess that's why I'm seein' things. When I was down there she did a lot of stuff an'—I think about it a lot. I still feel it. The worst was the shocking; I thought my circuits would fry an' when this happened—"

His breath caught in his throat, and Chell watched him with mild surprise painted across her face. She found her tongue running over her dry lips, and then made a move she would never have expected herself to make.

A hand made its way onto Wheatley's back and began to gently rub soothing circles. Her vision, however, was diverted elsewhere as she thought. Wheatley momentarily shied from the touch, but soon sunk into the comforting motion. A foreign, but welcomed action.

"Thank you. For telling me—I know it's hard." She had yet to tell anyone of just how affected she had been by GLaDOS; by him. She knew it took a lot of courage, and the fact he had even somewhat confided in her was appreciated.

At some point the two of them found themselves lying side by side, staring at the ceiling above them, listening to the sound of their own breathing and the occasional gust of wind outside.

"Wheatley? It was a turret then, right?" Her curiosity got the best of her; and besides, it was time to prove her suspicions right.

"Yea, that caused most of the damage."

"I figured. Hurts like a bitch."

It caused his insides to twist, but for once he felt they were having a genuine connection, they had something they could agree on even if he had been the one to put her through the same experience.

"Yea, it did hurt like a bitch."

Chell laughed, and Wheatley jolted at the sound. It wasn't something he heard often, let alone as pure as this. He found his heart fluttering at the sound, at the thought of being able to make her laugh, and he soon found a heat rising in his face.

"I've never heard you really curse before. It's odd."

"I don't do it all that often. Maybe it won't stick."

"Save it for when you really need it. It will carry more weight."

Wheatley paused, allowed a crooked grin to pass over his lips.

"Yea, I guess you're right."

And then they laid in silence again, with Wheatley replaying that beautiful laugh in his mind. Before long he'd noticed Chell's rhythmic breathing had slowed, and upon inspection, he found she had fallen asleep at his side. Never before had he realized just how beautiful the Lady—Chell, was. He had seen dozens—no, hundreds of sleeping humans in his lifetime and yet none could ever hold a candle to the woman at his side. He had never known her to look so peaceful, so elegant and yet do all of this without trying. It causes that odd feeling in his chest to return, and his breath to momentarily catch in his throat. As he laid back he made it a point to glue to sight to memory so that he could hold onto that sight indefinitely. His eyes closed, and his breathing soon slowed, content to feel the warmth of the woman by his side.

The red light in the windowsill dimmed as he succumbed to sleep, and he dozed off to the sound of gentle breathing, and the distant crow of a bird.


	7. Unrest

"Er-right, so, I just-"

A hard gaze had been passed on to the blonde and he quickly found his lips sealing once more. Chell had lost track of how many times she had had to reprimand Wheatley at this point; the man was intent on moving around and messing everything up. He had insisted on helping hang the lights and Chell was determined to finish them today. He just had to hold them so they wouldn't be tangled up; was that so hard?

Apparently for Wheatley, yes, it was.

Very early on he had voiced his distaste for the cold, but as winter finally began to rear its ugly head Wheatley was coming to find not only how harsh the weather could be, but the extent of how very much he disliked it.

Despite this aversion he had offered to help Chell hang the colorful lights-the Christmas lights, as she had corrected him, and it vaguely made sense to the core-turned-human. Of course, he was aware of the holiday, he knew what Christmas was! But that hadn't necessarily meant he had ever been able to celebrate. Aperture was known for being particularly devoid of any happiness.

Regardless, he had bundled up in almost every article of winter clothing Chell had purchased for him and hurried out the doors to assist the woman. He did not, however, plan on the wind. Or the occasional flurries that pelted him in the face and burned his skin; since when was something cold supposed to burn, anyway? He was just convinced that the winter was not a good time to stand around.

"Wheatley."

"Hm?"

"I need more."

"Oh! Sorry, haha, just thinkin' is all, thinking about the snow. And how it burns. That's definitely wrong, isn't it? I thought only fire was supposed to burn, hot things burn not cold things that's just—well that's silly! Is that always the case?"

Chell was vaguely listening to his thought session as she carefully wrapped the lights through the banister in front of her home. It was only when she heard his final question did she decide to tune in, and even then, it was somewhat distant.

"Things do that when they're cold enough, Wheatley. I can't explain the science behind it, look it up if you're really that interested."

Chell had not meant to come off as sharp, but with the wind sending a chill down her spine and having been standing out in the cold for so long she couldn't help but find her answers come off as somewhat harsh.

And perhaps she was holding the slightest bit of animosity toward the man currently holding the last bit of lights.

Wheatley's incessant apologizing had begun to wear the poor woman down. She realized he was sorry, but there was always that nagging thought as to whether he meant it. Giving an apology was easy; proving how sorry someone was was a much different story. And, quite frankly, Chell wasn't ready to completely forgive. Despite the two months they had spent together she still found herself feeling sour over the events that had transpired. Wheatley had been an absolute monster; there were times the scars on her back still ached when she thought of what had happened; when she thought of him and his rampage. So, no, his apologies weren't unwelcomed, but the repetitiveness of them most certainly was.

That was something the core just couldn't grasp.

Wheatley, of course, had never meant any harm and she repeatedly reminded herself of such. He figured that, even if she was unwilling to accept, then he should at least make sure she knew just how sorry he truly was. Though it seemed that, more often than not, he only managed to get on the woman's nerves as of late.

There was a pit that formed in her stomach when she watched as he shifted, his face contorting into a shameful look. She sighed, continued stringing, and finally plugged them in, finishing it off. After giving a nod, she collected the rest of the lights from the blonde and headed back into the house. There were boxes scattered through the house, a few decorations laying on their sides. Although it was only her up until this point, she enjoyed the holiday.

It had only been two years that she had been celebrating the holiday. Her employers had invited her over; Ted was an incredibly kind man and his wife, Adeline, was quite the cook. They had already extended another invitation to the woman this year and had even mentioned she was more than welcome to bring her 'male friend' along. Chell had only smiled at the time, let off a breathy laugh and nodded. She would have to make something this year to thank them.

She couldn't help but briefly wonder as she dug around in the boxes if this would be Wheatley's first Christmas. Most likely, she decided, because Aperture did not seem to be the kind of place to celebrate anything other than some scientific breakthrough at the expense of others. Right, maybe she ought to lay off him. It was the holidays; if she needed an excuse that was it. Besides, it wasn't as though he were trying to be a problem.

Chell busied herself with stringing various lights around the house as well as setting up some other small decorations. Wheatley was surprisingly silent. Even as she began making dinner he attempted to place some decorations around the house but was overall quiet aside from the occasional hushed apology for placing things in the wrong place or bumping into the woman.

The house was still somewhat of a mess when the pair sat down to eat, and Chell was growing concerned with Wheatley's silence by now. There were times she was sure he was becoming blue in the face with his rambling; this was unlike him. She was somewhat aware of the reason, but she wouldn't be held responsible for his pouting. Even if she was displeased with his current attitude. Instead, she chose to ignore it until they had finished eating. The silence had become more of a nuisance than anything and finally, she had decided to address it.

She always had to be the one to break the ice.

"Why aren't you talking?"

He seemed genuinely surprised by the question; in thought then, she assumed.

"Oh, well I-" he paused after that as if searching through the jumble of words that typically accompanied his fast-paced brain.

"Never mind-It's nothing, really, no need to worry, you know me, always thinking."

The look she gave him told him all he needed to know; he wasn't getting out of this. She knew him far too well; she knew when there was something on his mind and she would never let him off the hook. She had become very adamant about him talking, which he found somewhat ironic. At times he was almost positive his endless stream of meaningless thought irritated her, so why on earth it was that she always wanted him to speak what was on his mind completely eluded him. Really, the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how confusing humans were.

But he wouldn't lie, this was something that had been laying heavily on his mind for some time, and he wasn't entirely sure he had the right to discuss. Keeping his mouth shut on this one seemed to be the absolute best course of action.

But Chell was a stubborn one and, for the first time, it made his blood boil.

Her gaze was unwavering, and it caused him to shift in his seat, caused his stomach to twist and his heart to pound. Wheatley usually broke underneath the gaze, but instead, he decided to remove himself from the situation. He stood himself up, knees crashing against the table and a look of discomfort momentarily twisted across his face. It stung, but he faltered with a nervous grin instead of concerning himself with the throbbing.

"I can clean up!" His words wavered as he collected the dishes and moved himself over to the sink, leaving Chell thoroughly surprised.

She had never known him to be so direct with avoiding her questions, but she decided to shrug it off. She knew when not to prod and this was certainly one of those times. Besides, she had had other things to accomplish and didn't want to put any more of a rift between them. With that in mind, she excused herself, slid on a jacket, and left the home.

This had left Wheatley with an anxious feeling in his stomach. He had been quick to draw the curtains shut upon her leaving and decided to busy himself with cleaning up the left-over boxes while waiting for her return which, in his opinion, couldn't have been quick enough. He was, however, surprised to find Rick following her into the house with a tree in hand.

Wheatley was left staring, mouth slightly agape at the oddity before him. Who on earth brought trees into their house? Were they confused—perhaps they had both hit their heads or maybe Chell really did have brain damage all this time and he never knew! Either way, they hoisted the thing into the living room, and carefully placed it in a stand. They spoke to each other, things about moving it one way or another, making sure not to hit anything, before it was left standing proudly in the corner opposite of his couch-bed. The two admired the plant as if it were something of beauty and, again, Wheatley found himself scratching his head.

"That's a real nice one, Chell. You have an eye for trees."

Chell chuckled, and it surprised him. Anytime she laughed he found himself genuinely surprised; it was such a beautiful sound. He wished he could hear it more often.

"Maybe I can make something out of it. Really, though, if you need help picking one out I can always help get it set up. I know the kids are a handful."

"Thanks, Chell. But, speaking of which, I should probably get back home and catch 'em before they go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks again, Rick. Merry Christmas."

On his way out of the home he had greeted, and subsequently wished Wheatley a farewell before he exited the home, leaving the blonde gaping at the tree. Chell hadn't seemed to miss a beat, she had already grabbed some lights and was stringing them around the tree.

"Uh—I don't mean to be rude, really, not at all but I was just wonderin' what—and don't get me wrong it's a lovely tree, yes, a real sturdy one real—fragrant, but aren't those usually supposed to be, you know, outside with other trees?"

She had wondered how long it would take him to question the pine, and a thin smile had danced across her lips before she glanced over, and then continued her work.

"It's a Christmas tree. People usually do this."

Wheatley took a moment to process that information, nodded his head, and continued to gaze at the thing.

"Ah, yes well—I assumed it would be, actually, didn't think you would just be bringing in a tree for nothin', what with the trail it left." Speaking of which, he had moved to pluck a needle from the bottom of his sock. How odd! "Though I have to say, I've never actually seen a tree like this before they're called Christmas Trees?"

"No, pine trees. But they're used for Christmas Trees."

"Oh." Right, it seemed simple enough. It was still an odd tradition, but he supposed he wouldn't question it.

Instead, he had chosen to watch as she worked, wrapping the sets of lights around the tree, her work careful and precise. She was a wonder, really.

"Wheatley, grab that box outside the closet, would you?"

He had jumped to his feet at the request, happy to help and bring the said box to her. It was a large one, and it was awkward to carry, but he was glad to prove he wasn't always a klutz when he carefully set it down on the coffee table. She opened it up to reveal it was packed with little decorative figures. He didn't exactly know what they were, but it wasn't long before she was pulling one of the little balls out and holding it by the hook at the top.

"These are ornaments. You use them to decorate the tree. Grab one and put it on."

As she suggested such, she moved to hang one herself, as though it were a demonstration.

There was slight trepidation in his actions, a slight fear that he may break the delicate items, but he moved nonetheless. He hesitated, went to place the ornament—

"Ah, no. Put them on stronger ones or they'll slip off and break."

He had jumped, nodded, then moved to place it in a more stable branch. He moved back, admired the little red ball, and smiled at his reflection.

"That does look nice, doesn't it! Yea, nice little thing, I can see why people enjoy this!"

Chell was happy she could appease him, even if it would only be for a short while. As he busied himself with the tree, she moved to plug in the few strands of lights that hung around the archway from the kitchen and living room. She had briefly pulled back the blinds to see the darkness outside, and then a thin smile veiled her lips.

"Wheatley put your shoes on. I want to show you something."

He had finished up the tree at that point and did as he was told. He had been rather adamant about adding a jacket as well before Chell had him marching outside once more. He was displeased with having to stand in the cold, and that she was still in the warm house.

"I mean, really, what's this about? Are you trying to freeze me out? Is this some sort of exercise, maybe, build up a resistance to the cold? Oh, that's very smart but I don't think I want any part of that but thank you—"

When the house lit up before him he was completely caught by surprise. Chell had moved outside to meet him, her smile never waving. Her arms clung tightly to themselves, shielding herself from the wind and cold as she watched the man stare at the house in awe.

Of course, Wheatley understood it was only little lights, that his own wiring had been much more sophisticated and that this was so insignificant but for a moment he couldn't help but think how beautiful the human world really was. He never knew something so tiny could look so stunning. It seemed he was really noticing the hidden beauty of things as of late, and even the much more obvious ones he'd overlooked.

"Wow, I know I watched you, but I still can't believe you did this all by yourself. It's really lovely—do other people do this too?" Chell gave a nod in response, and this only seemed to encourage him. "Yea! And we usually get back when it's gettin' dark so we can see all of 'em! Amazing! Whoever knew that somethin' so small could make a house look so gr—"

Wheatley paled after that, and it surprised the woman, enough so to cause her gaze to shoot over and pay him a glance.

He looked thoroughly terrified, his eyes wide, lips pursed, and muscles tensed. She hadn't known what it was that spooked him, but she soon found her own eyes wandering about only to come up empty.

"Can we-I think I missed a few ornaments, actually, we should go back inside it's far too cold."

"What did you-"

But he hadn't waited, instead, he plowed past and went straight back indoors. It was really beginning to get under her skin.

Chell followed behind, watched as he removed his jacket and noticed the slight tremor in his hand. She didn't know what he was seeing, or why he had been acting so strange, but she was close to the end of her rope.

"What happened?"

He nearly jumped when she spoke, but just the look on his face was enough to tell her there would be more cover-ups.

"Nothin' it was just so cold, wanted to come in and also I have to be up early tomorrow, so I should really be getting to bed and—"

"Wheatley."

"Also I'll be there later than usual and I really want to be alert, don't want to make any mistakes because I really like the job and-"

"Wheatley."

"Well, you know how I feel about the snow—"

"WHEATLEY."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize just-you've been moping around, and you haven't been talking; you've been doing stuff like this, just tell me what's bothering you!"

She saw something snap in the core and, though she wouldn't like to admit it, her heart momentarily leaped. Fear? No, not now. Not anymore. But his face contorted, his brows pulled down and his lips were set in a deep frown and soon his arms were flying and his voice was fluctuating; she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him so distraught.

"I just I-I DON'T KNOW! I don't know where I stand with you and I-I never know what you're thinking and I'm just sorry, I really am, and I know you're still angry which is why I'm-And I know you don't owe me anything so I just don't UNDERSTAND! Augh!" His hands clawed through his hair after that, as though he attempted to sort his thoughts.

"I know you don't want to hear me apologize but I can't help it and I really am trying my best I know I mess things up and I feel like you're just going to send me out with the-just, I can't I-I'm still SEEING THINGS! I swear there's somethin' watching me I see it I-I do I see it and I'm having nightmares all the time and I always see the light! Sh-she wants me back down there and she will grab me the first chance she gets and if that happens-I-She'll end me. That'll be it for little ol' Wheatley and what difference does it make? 'S not like the world is sufferin' a loss but it DOESN'T MAKE IT ANY LESS TERRIFYING!"

He was left standing after that, hands slightly trembling, appearing physically exhausted, leaving Chell to gaze upon what was left. She was still left in a state of shock; the only time she had ever known him to have such a violent outburst had been-no. That wasn't him anymore. She had to stop thinking about it.

And she was going to make the effort.

Chell had sat herself down at the kitchen table, silent and strong as she always had been, and had simply folded her hands on the top, watching. He knew her all too well at this point, and his own gaze was knowing. He walked himself over to the table and sat himself down across from her. The two sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and after some time, she finally spoke.

"You did a lot of awful things back then, and I know you're sorry Wheatley, but verbal apologize aren't always what cuts it. I need to see your sorry. I know things are different, but I'm not ready to forgive. I need time. But, I'm never going to send you out. You have nowhere to go. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way."

That had left him gaping, but before he could speak up Chell continued.

"I don't know what GLaDOS did to you, but she never made it a point to make me suffer. You're going to be shaken up, but you're safe here. She's gone, and I swear she will not get you while you're here. Not while I'm around."

Wheatley sat silently for a moment, processing what he'd been told. He knew what he had seen, knew that he was incredibly tired but he couldn't help but feel comforted by what he had been told. He wholeheartedly believed her, and of course, he would! This was Chell, the woman who had defeated Her not once, but twice and had even earned her freedom! If anyone would make good on their word it was her.

And with that, Wheatley smiled.

"Thank you. I guess you're right; it's not like She's going to be walkin' up here to grab me."

Chell gave a nod of the head.

"Do you want anything special for dinner? I know you said you'd help out after hours but I can leave it in the fridge for you."

"Uh-well I don't really know anything in particular."

"I'll make something new, then."

At the end of the day, clearing the air had certainly been what was best for both of them. After a good night, the pair parted, and Wheatley felt at least the slightest bit better about his situation.

Snow had covered the ground over the night and, despite his aversion to the cold, he had to admit he enjoyed the crunching it made underneath his step. Chell could only watch with vague amusement as he watched the fluff be crushed under his feet, and occasionally give a glance up at the cloud-covered sky. He certainly seemed to be in a much better mood, and that had managed to make her feel the slightest bit better as well.

They had left a bit earlier than usual because Chell had decided to do some shopping before her own shift. She had felt somewhat—odd. She couldn't exactly put a finger on the exact emotion, but she knew she wanted to at least do something nice for the man. He had been suffering more than she had originally thought and she at least owed him that much.

When they entered the store Chell had wandered about, grabbing a few ingredients they lacked and then spent some time speaking with Rick. He'd mentioned how they would be getting their own tree in a few days and she mentioned heading out to help which, of course, was deeply appreciated. She hadn't much time, however, and it wasn't long before she was bidding Wheatley a fair well.

"You're fine walking alone, then?"

"Yes, absolutely fine, I can navigate pretty well, if you remember. Great memory, up here, never lets me down."

Chell smirked and gave a nod of the head.

"Alright, I'll see you tonight."

"See you, then!"

As she walked to work she couldn't help but feel lighter than she previously had. Maybe things really were looking up.

It had been growing late and there was still no sign of Wheatley. It seemed to be a general trend that reading evaded her when she was worried about the human-turned core. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the pages in front of her. She knew he had been working late but as the sun faded and the hours ticked by she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit worried. She understood he was a grown adult and that he had walked there and back on his own before, but she still didn't like the fact it had taken him so long.

He had assured her he was fine, however. And this was Wheatley they were talking about; if he had never closed before he most likely had messed something up and would have had to have fixed it. When the clock struck ten she finally decided she had to retire for the evening. Wheatley was a grown man—core. He could take care of himself. She would see him in the morning and maybe complain he hadn't called to tell her he would be late. Now she knew how he felt when he was left waiting around. Either way, she soon found herself in her bed, closing her eyes and drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

The store had been empty for what seemed like hours and it left Wheatley standing behind the counter, head resting on hand utterly bored. He wished someone would come through, even to just browse so that he could at least strike up a conversation, or even just to be sure there were still living people outside. It reminded him of his time back there; back when she had offed everyone and then someone—Chell—had offed her. It had been so very quiet then; there had been times Wheatley was sure he'd succumb to madness from the lack of life or even artificial life. Even finding a human was exciting back then, even if they didn't talk and were stubborn to boot.

A crash startled the man half to death, causing him to physically jump.

"Oh no. Oh, I hope that wasn't the shelf I restocked, I knew it looked sort of—bad, but I didn't think it'd collapse."

Wheatley soon removed himself from behind the register and was wandering from aisle to aisle looking for any toppled over produce, only to find nothing of the sort. This was enough to raise some concern. He found a hand scratching at the back of his sandy locks until another thud had been heard.

The back room, then.

He soon traveled to said room and flipped on the light which was, unfortunately, dim and he released an uneven breath. Was someone trying to break in? He really missed his flashlight at this moment.

"Hello? Is—is anyone there?"

With the lack of a response but another aggravated clank, he pushed on, looking for the source of the noise—and then froze. A blood curdling scream filled the store, and after one swift hit, Wheatley found himself hit the floor.

The next morning wasn't any better.

An empty bed caused a pit to form in her stomach and she momentarily found her heart rate increase. He didn't leave without her; he never left without her and without saying a word. His bed was never made, was never even touched. All that stood before her was a sofa that hadn't been used since the night before.

Chell had never dressed herself more quickly in her entire life. She had skipped out on breakfast, hadn't even looped her hair into it's usual ponytail. Instead, she had decided to head directly for the super market, her heart pounding hard within her chest. The sight of a cop car caused her chest to constrict. It was fine, everything was going to be okay.

She pushed her way through, only to find Rick scratching his head, seeming thoroughly miffed.

"Rick," She was breathless, she wasn't even entirely sure how she was speaking, "what happened?"

"Someone broke in last night. They didn't take anything, but the back room is a mess. There's this weird stuff splattered on the wall and I don't know what the hell it is. The one night I ask him to lock up—"

"Rick, where is Wheatley?"

This surprised the man. His anger was quick to fade, and it seemed some realization began to dawn on him.

"He's not with you?"

"No, he never came home last night."

A silence had fallen over them, and Chell wasted no time pushing past into the back room. The police officer in charge was less than pleased but Rick had at least said it was alright. It was a mess; some of the shelves we're dented and papers and other items were scattered over the floor. Blood; it was the first thing her eyes wandered to. The next was even more harrowing. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she saw the world spin around her.

A white substance glared back at her, taunted her. The conversion gel smeared over the wall was a personal strike against her.

The most damaging thought; her promise had been broken.


	8. The Breaking Point

To say Chell was angry was an understatement; no, there was no word in any known language that could properly articulate how utterly furious the woman was. She had returned home in a frenzy, destroying the cleanliness of her closet all to pull out a familiar pair of white boots. She stared at them, felt a clenching in her stomach but shoved them into her bag nonetheless. She hardly had time to think; instead, her body lead the way and her brain simply allowed it to do so. Wheatley was gone; She had taken him. Chell wouldn't stand for it. She had searched her house, grabbing things she would possibly need, her mind in a whirl.

She had responsibilities; she had a job and people who would notice her absence but god none of it mattered as she flew out the door practically running in the direction of that place, running after him. The trip would be a long one, and she wasn't even entirely sure if she would make it back.

But to hell with that. This was personal.

"I really didn't think you could get any worse at this, but I suppose you're always prepared to disappoint. Are you sure _that_ wasn't your specialty?"

Tears threatened to fall and stung the man's eyes, though it certainly couldn't compare to the burns currently covering his knees and hand. His feet betrayed him, and the man found himself falling onto the light bridge. It was a pain he'd never known, and it was intense enough to make him want to sob. But there was no time to stop. He had no choice but to pick himself back up and continue. The skin on his hand was raw and blistering; placing it on his portal device was agony but he pushed on and thankfully finished the chamber.

"You know, I think you're the first person to ever do something as stupid as that. Congratulations."

Her voice was harrowing; it sent chills down his spine and filled him with unmatched fear and hate.

He had to keep reminding himself of the better things; that his glasses were still intact, that he didn't have a bullet through his side this time. Whenever he threw himself into the lifts at the end of chambers it allowed him to breath; it gave him a moment of relief and unwanted verbal harassment.

But it was better than testing.

"You know, I'm still surprised you thought she would keep you safe. I mean, really, did you think she would keep you in her home and protect you after everything you've done? Of course, she wanted to get rid of you. You're a bother. Like right now; taking so long to get through these simple chambers. Wasting my time."

Wheatley was silent through it all, aside from the painting and slight grunts as the pain in his hand flared.

This angered the queen.

He was spoiling the fun; really, what was there to get out of a silent subject? Was he mirroring her? It was enough to make the AI want to laugh; did he really think he could ever be anything even remotely similar to her? That woman was on another level entirely; her silence had been agonizing but her testing was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was a shame to have had to have let her go, but it was for the best. Keeping her around only proved dangerous, and had she gone back on her word, sent her back down, there was no doubt she would have made more escape attempts, would have found some other way.

She was at least thankful to have the moron back; he kept her entertained, allowed her to feel the blissful high of revenge. Keeping him around certainly helped occupy her time. And so, this silence was certainly a setback; it was aggravating. She got very little from his silence. If anything, it irritated her to know he attempted to be like that woman; he must have thought very highly of himself.

She'd break him of that right quick.

"I see we're taking a different approach. Very well. Have it your way, then."

Wheatley did not like the sound of that. When the elevator screeched to a halt his heart jumped into his throat. He grasped at the side of the lift, hand searing with the action and stomach lurching. He could feel himself raising slowly—and then the elevator dropped at an alarming speed. Screaming filled the elevator shaft, and his grip turned his knuckles white.

That was more like it.

"Oh, is falling bothering you? At least you're in the lift. Being under it is much more harrowing. I have more useful things to deal with now. Stay there for a while."

Right; he'd forgotten about that. His mind was straining to think of something, anything other than his current predicament but his stomach and physical body we're absolutely betraying him. Oh God; he was going to vomit; he could feel it. He wasn't entirely sure what vomiting entailed but he knew it was not something pleasant. And just as he thought he could adjust he was coming to a stop, being brought back up and then dropped again.

He couldn't tell how long he'd been falling; it could have been hours or days, and every so often she was shaking up the pattern only to startle him even more. What he did know, however, was that he was completely sick. Although he'd adjusted some to this torture, it was to no avail. He was soon very much aware of the pain in his hand once again, which was a burning he'd never experienced before in his life. Oh God, he didn't know how much longer he could deal with this.

And then he came to another halt, this one much more forceful than the rest.

The first thing he'd done was wretch. He wasn't proud of such, didn't appreciate the new burning in his throat or general nausea that lingered but at least it had stopped. It was a startling feeling and one that left him gasping for air between the various gags. The halting of the elevator did nothing to alleviate his concern; if anything, it heightened it. It most likely meant something worse was to come, but at least he could catch his breath.

"I've got something more interesting for you to do. It looks like you have a use after all. I'd suggest you remain upright."

"What? What does that—"

But before he could protest the floor disappeared beneath him and he was falling once more, screaming following close behind.

Chell never thought she'd see the day when she would be staring at this shed again. She knew better than to cause a riot. She was calm; collect. She kneeled, yanked the boots from her back and swapped her real shoes for these familiar ones. She was, at first, unsteady, but quickly regained her typical poise. It seemed some things would never change. It was almost akin to riding a bike; it was a feeling she would never forget. On her way back up she snatched a rock, held it tightly in her hand, then flung it at the door and relished in the metallic 'clank' it made. She watched the camera flicker, saw it turn and stare. There was a moment of hesitation, and then finally the door swung open. Hesitation on her part meant death. It was for that reason her actions were quick and concise. After taking a breath, she took a step forward into the fire. Back down to the depths of hell.

The lift fell, and she found herself in a white room; nothing but a door opposite of her, and the door behind her that promptly closed behind her. And, of course, that offensive red lens of a camera.

"Why are you back?" Her voice was one of distaste; ah, so familiar and so unwanted.

"When I said 'don't come back' I meant it. Oh, wait, don't tell me. You can't possibly be back here for him?"

Chell's frown only grew in response.

"Please, I took a weight off your hands. Around two hundred pounds of dead weight. Two hundred pounds of dead, useless, idiotic weight. Really, why would you be upset when I did you a favor?"

No response, as per usual.

The door behind her momentarily opened.

"After reminding you of his uselessness I'll let you see yourself out."

It enraged her how she stood there silently, angrily. She was unwavering, and it only reminded her why her testing was never the same since. After a few beats, the door slammed shut and the lift was taken away.

"Very well. Then you can stay down here with him. Let the testing resume."

The door before her opened and without hesitation, she stepped into test chamber one.

The presence of a portal gun surprised her. With her track record, she hadn't planned on being presented with one, but she accepted it nevertheless. She then took the time to take in the chamber. It was a surprisingly simple one. Almost insulting if she were being honest. Getting from point A to point B? She supposed she couldn't complain. She shot a portal on the wall beside her and then moved to shoot the second only to find the gun stall. She was momentarily irritated, attempted again, found nothing came of it. She knew Aperture had a shaky track record but GLaDOS was usually much more put together than this. Her portal gun had never failed her before, and this was an aggravating, and perhaps somewhat anxiety-inducing, turn of events.

"Oh, are you having problems? How unfortunate. With your track record and the moron, I decided to add some adjustments. In layman's terms, I _baby_ proofed it. We wouldn't want anyone running around behind the chambers. Try shooting it now."

Just as she said the portal shot on the adjacent wall and opened the way. Fine, if that's how it was going to be she would play along. She would find a way; she always did.

When she arrived at the exit Chell found herself abruptly halting. The emancipation grill; she'd almost forgotten about those troublesome things. Her gaze turned to the camera and it was a hardened one at that.

"What do you want?" Chell glanced at the grill and back to the camera but was only met with silence. After a few beats it dissolved, and she was on her way to the next chamber.

"Consider that a favor. Well, to myself more than anyone, I suppose. While it would be amusing, I don't need to see you running around without any clothing. Nobody wants to see that. Then again, I suppose there would be a few men; there are always the odd few who like a woman of— _your_ size."

With nothing more than a scowl, Chell pressed onward and continued the game.

At some point, she had managed to completely lose track of the number of chambers she had completed. While they had increased in difficulty, it seemed there would never be an end. She had no indication of her status, no verbal cues, nothing. Wheatley's location was still a mystery, and she found herself growing anxious behind her hardened mask.

There was a fear that had settled in the pit of her stomach that she constantly found herself fighting against. He was most certainly alive; he had no use to her deceased. She would get nothing out of him dead, so she had to keep him alive—this was a thought she constantly had to reaffirm. She could only hope he was alright and in one piece. He most likely wasn't but god dammit she had to keep a positive outlook.

Seeing an older looking chamber had thrown a wrench in her composure. GLaDOS had been silent aside from a few insults, and from mentioning past transgressions. She had cut her portal gun a few times which thoroughly startled the woman and, on one occasion, left her with a slight tremble, but she continued. She was coming to find things were, while painfully similar, unpredictable.

So, the old scenery really was startling but repetitive just as the last. That was until a scream pierced her ears.

"Oh dear, did I leave that on? I told him not to make any noise; sounds like nails on a chalkboard, really. Keep yourself busy for a bit, I have some things to attend to."

Oh God. While hearing him was reassuring it only extended her concern. It only motivated her further.

She was sure she would beat some sort of record with how fast she was clearing these chambers. And then came her opportunity. An ill-placed turret smashed the glass of an observation room above. The cameras still watched her all the while and so she continued the room unphased; she could still cut her gun and then it would be lights out. She had to remain calm. She waited until the last moment, and just as she set up her final portal she shifted and launched herself through the window.

And then she ran like hell.

"What do you think you're doing? I'd advise you to return to the test chamber immediately. You'll get lost back there; you don't have a little idiot to guide you this time."

Chell didn't stop for anything; she pushed on. GLaDOS had no control over the offices, so long as Chell could navigate she would be safe. She could make blind attempts behind the scenes, but these older areas were out of reach. When the floor beneath her vanished, Chell found herself completely caught off guard. The fall was an awkward one, but she had caught herself; not without shredding her arm. It seemed never-ending, and it was one that left her in a blind panic as she attempted to properly align herself amidst the narrow opening. She had hit a broken walkway, and it took a huge chunk of her arm with it. She gazed down at the wound, winced at the pain and watched as the blood began to spill out from the gaping hole. Screaming filled the air again, a distant scream. When she attempted to shoot a portal, her gun protested; she wanted to growl but kept it internal. Chell searched, found said walkway had bent just low enough for her to jump and grab onto it. While it was somewhat of a struggle, she managed to pull herself up. And she was running once more.

When she caught a sight of the blonde her pace increased. It was a fleeting glance and his shouting only seemed to grow distant with each passing second. She reached the opening, went to follow behind—only to find the walls close in on her. She turned, noticed the lack of a door and nostalgia flooded her senses.

Trapped like a damn rat in a cage.

The following events were far too familiar. The floor slowly began to disappear, she fell and into a familiar glass box, and slowly she was drawn to her; to GLaDOS. Chell wanted nothing more than to scream; then to fall to her knees and tear her hair out and yell and yet she remained indignant. When she reached her room, however, her heart leaped back into her throat.

There he was; alive, trapped in a box familiar to her own, a little worse for wear but alive.

"Ch-L-Lady I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"What a touching reunion. I can't believe you fell for that. Again. I mean, really, humans are much more gullible than I thought. And it was already very gullible. You're really beating the odds."

Chell had taken the time to take in the other and scowled at the burns covering his knees. She imagined there were more to match. Her only solace was the particular lack of bullet wounds which could settle her mind if even the slightest bit.

"I can't fathom how you would ever want to come back for him. I even gave you the chance to leave and you just carried on."

Chell scowled, her grey eyes filled with a dangerous fire. GLaDOS crept closer to her subjects; she was a predator tormenting her prey.

"All you had to do was turn your back and head out. Maybe he rubbed off on you too. You make it too easy. It's a shame; well, for you, anyway. Now we just need to make up for lost time."

Her container had begun to inch away, panels opened to present her to her doom and it was then that Chell sprang into action. A loud pop resounded through the room and was quickly followed by shattering glass. And then it happened. Just as Wheatley had recognized the gun within her hand it fired again, and another shatter filled the air. The bullet went clean through Her optic, shattering the yellow glass into hundreds of pieces, resulting in an unearthly shriek that caused even Wheatley to flinch. The last shot surprised him, and the glass around him shattered. Chell wasted no time wrapping a hand around his wrist and yanking him along into a sprint.

Wheatley had only ever heard the AI scream in pain once in his entire existence and it hadn't even compared to the true agony she had been in. Chell had shattered her optic with that little gun of hers; a clever girl! She was always prepared for anything that this facility threw at her; she was unstoppable.

Chell could tell Wheatley was beginning to tire, and it was for that reason she finally stopped and allowed the both of them to catch their breath. It was true, she wasn't completely like she once was; she did find herself growing winded, but there was an old sensation she had forgotten about entirely; that adrenaline pumping throughout the facility. It was what kept her going, what fought back the exhaustion. Though, there was some small part of her that was willing to bet she would continue to fight even without it. Now she was fighting for more than herself, and that made a world of a difference.

Her gaze moved back to the core and it was a hardened one; it was a gaze he had not seen since the last time their paths had crossed. It was a gaze he did not want to see. Her vision shifted, and she peered down the hallway and was briefly taken back by the various doors and offices.

"Exit? R-right um let me think; these are sort of abandoned ah-not many cores runnin' past these ways but I could think um—Oh! Yes, there was, hardly anyone knows about it, but there was an exit for employees only. It's around here—probably a few flights up but I'm sure we could get to it! It can't be too far it has to be around somewhere."

She gave a very slow nod and went to move but quickly stopped herself. Her hands stretched out, grabbed the other's wrist and flipped his hand, holding the back of it in her own smaller, but stronger one. It was—bad. It was extremely red and many of the blisters that had formed had split leaving open sores and no doubt immense pain. She scowled, and it caused a frown to cross Wheatley's own face. His knees were very similar to his hand, but it seemed that it had taken the worst damage. But, again, it could have been worse. She had to keep reminding herself that.

During that time Wheatley had begun to take in her own wound; it was a deep one and although the blood had stopped it still had blood running down the length of her arm. It was a deep wound, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was in any pain. And then his eyes rose to meet with her face and his heart sunk.

"You—Oh you have—the glass."

Chell blinked, and her hand momentarily rose. Fingertips danced over her forehead and met with a sharp object near the end of her forehead and beginning of her hairline. She hissed, wrapped her index finger and thumb around the damn thing and yanked it out with a silenced grunt. The wound bled, and she could see the anxiety painted across Wheatley's face. She could feel the blood running down the length of her face but chose to ignore it. Instead, she reached out her free hand, gaze Wheatley's shoulder a quick squeeze and a reassuring nod of the head.

Exit. Yes, they would escape yet.

They were able to take things slower now, take their time and think things through. Having Chell fall back into her vow of silence was unsettling. He had grown used to hearing her voice and even found times where he was still eager to hear her speak. It was a relief to have her by his side, and yet he still felt panic and fear building in his chest.

And so, he too reverted back to his usual coping mechanism.

"Thank you, by the way, for comin' back here I mean I—I didn't know if you would, but I was hoping that you wouldn't—that um you wouldn't leave me here. Turns out she had birds, nasty things and they um-they saw me. 'S how she figured things out. Nasty things. Really, terrible creatures. They—I don't know how they got into the store but—and I was so surprised when I was back here, and I thought if I could just hold on until—if you came." He trailed off after that.

It only fueled her rage. God, why couldn't she just listen to him? He had told her so many times someone was watching, that she, GLaDOS, was watching and she had told him it was nothing. Dammit, she should have investigated it more, should have believed him. She shouldn't have underestimated GLaDOS's own rage and now here they were. She could have avoided this mess if she had only listened. At the very least she put the AI out of commission for a while. She bought them some much needed time.

It honestly felt like they had been walking for hours and Chell could see Wheatley was growing more and more distressed with each passing minute. She already knew what was to come but she decided to leave things silent between them; it allowed her to think and concentrate.

She didn't appreciate how quiet She was, however.

"Do you—I don't know if I can find our way out of here. I'm so sorry I don't know I—do you think she sees us? It's just so quiet I feel like she'd definitely be back by now, yea? Oh, this is just settin' us up isn't it oh she's going to—"

Wheatley had the wind knocked out of him after that as the woman rammed him into a nearby room.

"Wh-what was that about!?" He croaked, but her only response was a finger shoved against her own lips and he fell silent.

In the silence, he heard it and it sent a chill down his spine.

"Hello?"

It was at that moment Wheatley realized just how close they'd come to shake hands with death. He dared to peek ahead out only to retract when a red laser darted over to his position. His mind was grinding; she had access to the offices now; that was a problem. But it also meant—

"Ah! If she's doing that then-we're heading in the right direction! We just have to get past the-oh. That might be difficult." He hadn't noticed Chell pacing around the cubicles, eyes ablaze, mind racing. It took her little time to begin collecting items.

It always amazed Wheatley how great of a problem solver Chell proved to be. Her mind worked like a well-oiled machine; if he could organize his thoughts in the same way she did he would be a force to be reckoned with. He watched as she wheeled a chair over and packed a computer on top of it. She didn't have much to work with, but she did have her jacket. She removed the item and used it to secure the heavy box to the chair. She peered out the door, took a calculated breath, then made a run for it. She gave the chair one swift push down the hall and then booked it for the room across from their own. The chair wheeled towards the turret and crashed into it, toppling the bot over and causing it to spew a shower of bullets before peacefully deactivating.

Wheatley dared to poke his head out to find all was still. Chell herself hardly hesitated. She walked out, gave a nod to the man and allowed him once more to take the lead. Maybe this was why She had treasured the Lady. Not even bullets or lack of a portal gun could get in her way.

As they passed by she scooped up her jacket and slipped it back on her shoulders. Wheatley briefly admired her, and then shook the thought out of his head. If she had access to them they had a big problem on their hands. But with Chell? No, he could withstand anything.

Throughout the rest of their time, she had sprung some more traps; walls moving, turrets appearing and lifts crashing. However, they always seemed to be slightly off; she was completely blind. She could only guess where they would be and hope for the best. While this was encouraging, her silence was concerning.

"Here I—yes, I remember this! The exit is right up this way!"

Wheatley pushed open the door that lead to a winding flight of steps. It was the safest route, and though the climb was daunting, Chell wasted no time flying ahead and storming up. He wasn't as fast, but he followed along without hesitation. They were going to get out; they would both get out of here alive!

After what seemed like an eternity they left the stairwell and a faint glimmer of light illuminated the hallway. Wheatley's heart leaped, and he made the move towards it. "I knew it was here—I knew it, I did! Who needs that old body anyway? My brain is perfectly functioning, come on, then, we're golden we can—"

"WHEATLEY!"

Time seemed to slow down after that. Once more he found himself being shoved, his gaze turned around to find another line of turrets just before the door. But he thought she was blind, how could she have told how she could have—she wanted them to feel secure. No, she wanted him to feel secure because she knew he'd mess up like this.

Chell was soon throwing her gun at one of the boots causing it to topple and knock the second down with it. The third began to fire just as Chell threw herself against the ground and slid towards it. Her foot hit the damn thing and finally it, too, toppled over, continued spraying, then deactivated.

Silence.

"Did you really think I'd just let you leave so easily? Really, now, nativity is an amazing thing."

She was motionless. Wheatley approached, slowly, trepidation laced in his movements.

"Oh no, did someone get hurt? I wish I would have known it was this easy. It would have saved me a lot of time."

He threw himself down beside her; she was unresponsive, and it caused his chest to restrict. Oh God, no—no.

"Go ahead and leave, then. I won't stop you. Did she ever accept your apology? Oh, what a _shame_ , deprived of the one thing you wanted. Good luck out there. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Wheatley grabbed her, scooped her up into his arms despite the burning. He wasn't the strongest but was surprised to find she really didn't weigh all that much. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing as he faltered, adjusting her in his arms. He pushed past the door; and the morning light flooded his senses, burned eyes but he continued to run.

The exit lead out into an old parking lot; one that seemed to go on for miles. It was filled to the brim with decaying cars, covered in vegetation and an overgrowth of plants. They were the cars of the many who fell before, and for some reason, it pained him to see all of them there. It reminded him of the many lost lives underneath the surface. It reminded him of the fading life within his grasp.

Wheatley ran until his legs refused to carry him any further; he ran until his body protested and he collapsed, clutching her to his chest. He took the time to pull back her jacket and found his heart cease its beating when he caught sight of the crimson staining her shirt. Hot tears burned his eyes, and his grip only increased.

"Chell, Chell no you can't-not now, you're not-Oh, God Chell no don't die now! Come on you've—you've been through a lot worse you aren't allowed to die! Please I—I need you to get up and—and—I can't—I'm so sorry."

Tears began to roll down the sides of his face, some falling onto her own tanned skin. His body was beginning to tremble, and yet his grip remained firm.

"I'm sorry for everything! I'm sorry, I never—I wish we escaped when I said we would. I don't know what came over me I—if I had never shown up again you wouldn't—I'm sorry I'm always such a burden I just wish—Chell please, please don't I can't do it on my own. I can't."

A hand rose to brush away the falling tears.

Wheatley was completely caught off guard, and his gaze turned to meet with her own soft, and tired one. To see her eyes, open once more—he was sure he had never seen such beautiful irises in all his life. Artificial and organic.

"Did you get hit?"

He was still caught in a state of shock. All he could manage was a very short shake of the head.

"Good."

"You—Chell you—I thought—"

She had moved to peel back her shirt with that. Her movements were slow but calculated. She had revealed a black material underneath her clothing; one that had, presumably, saved her life.

Brilliant.

"I had a feeling she would try something."

Wheatley was left with his mouth still agape, taking in every aspect of her face. He'd noticed she had paled somewhat but was alive and breathing despite it all.

"But you're still—your arm."

"She got my shoulder." And as she said that, she lifted the hand opposite and pressed the palm of it firmly against the wound. She winced but left the pressure there. Her chest continued to sting from the impact of the bullet, but she decided it was best not to mention that.

"I think I might have a concussion. I hit my head. Hard."

Wheatley was silent for a good long while before another sob racked his body; one mixed with a laugh and caused him to embrace her tightly. Chell released a breathy laugh of her own, one of disbelief and relief and perhaps something else.

"I thought you were gone. I—I really thought I'd lost you and that—I don't know what I would have done without you. If it hadn't been for me none of this would have happened. I'm so—I'm just so—"

"I forgive you."

Wheatley was silent after that, and she could see the range of emotions he was experiencing just by watching his expression. He'd finally settled on a smile; a wet, tear-filled, sobbing smile. Once more he wrapped his arms around her and embraced her for what seemed like ages. Chell was the first one to break the hold. She had sat herself up, turned, and now it was her turn to wrap her arms around the other, turning it into a proper embrace.

Wheatley held her in his arms, felt his heart flutter and it seemed as if the rest of the world melted around him. He was positive that nothing on Earth mattered at that time. Having her in his grasp was the greatest thing he could ever experience, even if he wasn't entirely sure why. All he knew was that it felt right, and he wouldn't question it.

Chell dug her fingers into the fabric of his suit, allowed her head to rest in the nape of his neck. She was quite certain she never wanted to release him for fear of losing him again. A few months prior she would have laughed had anyone told her she would come to grow so attached to this man, or even remotely care for him. And yet now she couldn't imagine her life without him.

And so, they sat, arms entangled around one another in the morning sun for an undetermined amount of time.

Things were going to be alright, so long as they had each other.


	9. Peace on Earth

"Chell dear, you don't have to carry that!"

A laugh had filled the air after the older woman's comment, and Chell simply shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, you always say that! I just don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. That car accident must have scared you half to death! I'm so glad the two of you made it out okay. Here, let me take that."

The elder woman had attempted to take the turkey from her but Chell refused to back down; she moved the bird and gave her a determined look.

"It wasn't anything too serious. We're both alright. I'd be more upset if I had to sit around and watch you get everything done by yourself."

That comment had prompted the woman to give Chell a light smack on the arm; it was all in good nature, and they were both smiling all the while.

"What, do I seem too old to you? The day I can't carry the turkey into the dining room is the day I kick the bucket! You're such a stubborn young thing. Thank you."

With that, a laugh had filled the air and Chell left the kitchen to place the bird down on the table.

A car accident seemed to be the best excuse for their injuries; injuries of which had been healing without any sort of hitch. Aside from the stinging that came from the bullet wound on her shoulder (which, thankfully, went unseen), the only visible indication of any mishap was the fresh cloth taped on her forehead. Wheatley, on the other hand, had not been as lucky, what with a wrapped hand and knees (the bandages made for bulky pant legs and an uncomfortable man) but otherwise, he was as quirky and talkative as usual. Chell had been keeping a close eye on him and monitored his mood; she didn't know how he would act after all they had been through, but he had surprised even her. He seemed genuinely happy; especially today.

As if on cue, the blonde emerged from the living room, a nervous grin plastered across his pale features. It caused a grin to bloom across her own lips, and soon a hand had found itself placed upon her hip. Although he was still no master decoder, he understood it was an invitation to vent; and even if it hadn't been, he most likely would have proceeded regardless. It still amazed him just how talented Chell was when it came to read his mind—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say how she read his body language.

"He was talking about politics, yea. I agreed with him on practically everythin'. Didn't understand a single thing he was saying but I agreed with him. Then I offered to go ahead and help you in the kitchen."

"He's probably going to try and talk about politics with you all the time now, you know, that right?"

"Yea, I realized that as I walked in here."

"I could see that."

Wheatley seemed rather flustered at the acknowledgment, and a hand had rubbed at the back of his neck after the comment.

"There's some more things to carry in from the kitchen. Let's go grab them then we can eat." Chell trailed back into the kitchen through the open walkway after that and Wheatley had followed at her heels.

"Oh, you must be Wheatley." He had been caught off guard when a short older woman had approached him upon his entering the kitchen.

She was small, but she didn't look as old as she was; her hair was blonde, though a darker shade then his own, and each piece seemed to be sprayed into its own perfect place. Her makeup was immaculate, and her clothing festive just as his own. The look she gave him was one that confused the former-core, and he had paid Chell half a glance before his attention was being brought onto the woman once more. For a brief moment he wished he was Chell, then at least he would have had some insight on what was to come.

"Merry Christmas." It threw him for a loop, but he managed to smile despite his surprise.  
"Thank you, Merry Christmas to you too and, ah, thank you for havin' me, really, it was very kind of you considerin' we haven't met or anythin'."  
"It was no trouble at all. The more the merrier." She hummed, and Chell handed Wheatley a small bowl to carry back into a dining room. As soon as his back turned, and he headed off into the dining room it had been Chell's turn to receive the same scrutinizing look. Adeline had grown used to Chell's silence, and it only caused that playful smirk on her pink lips to grow.  
"Really, nothing?" Adeline has asked, which had caused her to receive quite the heated look from Chell.  
It only caused her to laugh and give a very gentle shake of the head.  
"Okay, if you say so."  
Chell had scooped up a bowl of vegetables and returned to the dining room where she met a very concerned Wheatley.

"What was that look all about? I mean, I thought she might chew me up, I didn't know what to expect. Certainly never seen anyone look at me that way before; humans are so hard t'read, you know? I need more practice."  
"Don't worry about it. It was just gossip. Old lady gossip. Leave it at that."

He hadn't been thrilled with the answer he was given, nor the tone it was given in, but he decided to do as he was told and leave things to rest. Before long Adeline was joining them in the dining room and calling for Ted who happily made his way in and admired the table full of food. Once they were all together they took their seats, and soon after a toast had been made by Adeline (and some nonverbal cues from Chell because she could tell by the very look on his face that Wheatley had no idea what a toast was) they sipped their champagne and ate. Chell had never been much of a drinker, and so her glass went untouched, but she couldn't help but find a laugh escaping her when Wheatley sipped his own.

There were always some things Chell found slipping her mind and Wheatley never having tried alcohol before was one of them. He had visibly gagged but, upon looking around, realized no one else had and so he had proudly stated he thought it was great. He was so—endearing. Honestly, he knew how to brighten her day and most times he wasn't even trying. It was funny, now that Chell really thought about it—they had been in such a different place only months earlier. Before there hadn't been a single thing Wheatley could have done that amused her; she would have rather seen him out on the street then within her own house and now she was grateful for the company. He wasn't a bad man—or core or mix of the two. He was just confused and quirky; they were two things she was generally able to handle. He wasn't the same person he used to be, but he had most certainly changed for the better. Wheatley was a man Chell liked having around, and that was all that really mattered.

Dinner had been filled with laughter and idle chatter and once everyone had finished Chell offered to clean up but was vehemently denied; Adeline insisted she and Ted clean after all the help Chell had been. She sounded like she meant business, and so Chell and Wheatley excused themselves. When she caught a glimpse outside, a keen grin had crossed her lips, and that briefly startled Wheatley but he complied when she asked him to slide his coat on. The two headed back into the kitchen after such, and Chell opened the back door for the blonde and allowed him to step out. She watched as his mouth slightly fell agape as he admired the beautiful scene before him.

Their backyard had a covered patio with some furniture that remained untouched, but what laid in the backyard was beautiful to the core. He had seen snow before, and he, of course, understood what it was but never had he seen it look so beautiful. The backyard was covered in a fluffy coating and it came down so hard he could barely see the fence that lay in the back. He practically leaned over the wooden railing, eyes wide with wonder, his mouth still slightly open as he stared at the scene before him.

"Wow. I didn't know it could—well, I didn't know it could fall like that, so fast. It never looks that nice on the sidewalk; it's always all mushy and—well, gross, actually, it's pretty gross but this is nice. Really nice."

Chell had sat herself down and watched as he leaned over, gaze fixed on the yard.

"I want to run in it, actually, but then I'd ruin it and it's not actually our yard so maybe refrain from doin' that, that probably isn't the best idea—well, at least I'm still good at one thing, we know that."

"Wheatley, not all of your ideas are bad." He glanced back at her after that remark and seemed genuinely touched, though she did follow it up. "I just think a lot of them are misinformed."  
"Is—well, I guess that gives me the benefit of the doubt, at the very least. A little wiggle room. Doesn't make me out to be a complete bad guy, just a naïve one."  
Wheatley had moved to sit in the chair beside Chell's after that, and the two watched the snow falling before them.

Chell had released a sigh, watching her breath appear before her and drift away.  
"By the way, I got you something." This had caused Wheatly to glance over at the woman beside him.  
"For Christmas; I thought it would be a nice time to give it to you." She dug in her pocket after that and presented him with a small box wrapped in blue wrapping paper.  
He carefully accepted the gift and looked it over, then shook it a few times as if to guess what was inside. When he came up empty he tore into the paper and pulled off the top and was—rather stumped, if he were being quite honest.

"A key? I mean—it's lovely! A key, yes, lovely gift—keys. Could open things, that's for sure, great at doin' that. Or at least one thing—it will unlock one thing and—oh, what's this?"

Upon closer examination, Wheatley saw there was a small object dangling on a chain. He lifted two fingers so that he could get a better look at it and was rather surprised with the results.  
"A—well, it's an apple, isn't it?"  
Chell laughed, and Wheatley found his chest squeezing for some reason he wasn't sure.  
"Yea. I thought it might be funny. It's not just a random key either, Wheatley. It's a house key it's—well, it was my way of saying welcome home. Even if it is a couple weeks late. Merry Christmas, Wheatley."

She hadn't exactly received the reaction she had wanted; if anything he had looked a bit unnerved that she had given him what she had and she wasn't sure what the cause was. Had it been underwhelming—perhaps he didn't like it at all? A key was sort of a crummy gift, but it was the thought that counted. Or maybe it was the apple that caused the angst; it did bring up their past which had been somewhat rocky, but it had also been her way of saying she forgave him; that despite what happened there was still good in it.  
"You hate it, don't you? It's fine, I knew it would either be a hit or a miss."  
Once again Wheatley was surprising her with the look of utter shock on his face.  
"Wha—hate it! No, not at all I—well I was just I—I really love it actually, it's the nicest thing anyone has ever one from me aside from going back down there and—but it is rather awkward because I—well I—oh, well here—"

Wheatley had begun to dig around in his own pockets after that and he presented a box similar to the one Chell had given him, only this one was poorly wrapped in a shiny red paper. She was honestly surprised he had gotten her something. He had mentioned not knowing much about Christmas and she certainly hadn't lead on about giving him anything. Before she tore the paper, she peered up from the gift and gave Wheatley a side glance.  
"Did you wrap this?"  
Wheatley smiled sheepishly at the question and briefly looked away.  
"I did—I know it's not the best. Not as good as yours anyway. Ripped it a few times so I had t'start over and I'm not the best with tape so—"  
"It's great." And with that, she tore it open.  
Chell stared at the lid for a few moments before she took it off and was, genuinely, taken back.

The Lady had always been one of few words; her stoicism was one that was hard to match, and her looks were always so full of emotion, but this had been one Wheatley had never seen before, and he really wasn't sure how to react. Inside was a silver necklace, and that alone was enough to shock her, but it wasn't what took her breath away. Instead, it was the small apple that was attached at the bottom, shining back at her and causing her heart to skip a few beats. The silence was agonizing to Wheatley, and he chose to watch her take the necklace out and hold it in the palm of her hand, admiring the tiny silver fruit.

"S-so uh—well you see why I was—surprised because well I—I um—well, we had the same idea I suppose and I didn't really ever expect that to happen so—uh—"  
"Wheatley, where did you get this? You didn't have to get me anything."  
"No! I know—I mean, I wanted to. Rick asked me what I was gettin' you and well—I didn't really know what that was about and he had mentioned you got me something small so I was scared—I was really scared because I have no idea what you would want and so I got you that because he said girls really like jewelry but I would have to make it something you would like and I thought maybe you would get a kick out of it and also maybe you would hate it because it was back then when I was still—um, anyway, I just hope you like it because uh—well I—um—haha did it get warmer out here? It really feels like it got warmer out here—"  
Wheatley had stopped his babbling when a warm hand touched his own cold one. He noticed she'd put the necklace on herself during his rambling and it caused a very small smile to cross his lips in response.  
"It's beautiful. Thank you, Wheatley."  
"W—I—you're welcome."

They had remained outside for a few more minutes before finally returning into the home and feeling relief when warmth washed over them once more. Adeline had called out that they had settled in the living room and after slipping off their coats, Chell and Wheatley had moved to meet them. That was until Chell found him halting and staring at something rather odd to him.  
"Uh—I know you said people bring the trees in for the holiday but—why on earth are they hangin' weeds from the ceiling? I thought the tree was pretty nice once we decorated it—and it smelled nice—but weeds?"

"It's not a weed. It's mistletoe."

"Right—that doesn't make much of a difference to me, now does it."

"It's a Christmas thing. A lot of people hang mistletoe in their houses around Christmas. It's usually common in couple's homes. People kiss under it."

"Wh—really? They kiss under a weed?"

"Yea, Wheatley, they do."

He'd seen the amusement on her face as she trailed away and it built up a tension within him.

"Wh—Chell, wait!" He'd grabbed her wrist and felt the softness of her sweater.

She had turned to face him, and he felt his heart skip a beat; he took in every inch of her and it seemed as if time itself had stopped. He watched her eyes; her hazel eyes that were so beautiful and he was sure he had never seen another human with such beautiful eyes in all his life—he watched her hair, the way it fell neatly at her shoulders and noted just how beautiful it looked when it was down and falling into her face. He took a glance at her lips and God help him he'd never thought a pair of lips could look enticing and he was absolutely mesmerized by them. He hadn't realized he'd been staring—or that he'd been staring for as long as he had been, and it made for a very confused Chell.  
"What is it?"

And then he had done it. He cupped her face in his own large hands and pressed his lips against her own; he'd be damned if he didn't know how to kiss he'd try it anyway—he'd seen enough shows on the tele to learn how! He'd had to bend over slightly, but he swore it was something not of this world; he felt as if he were floating on air as if he were somewhere else if for only a brief second. He had half expected her to push away but she hadn't, instead, she had given him what seemed like minutes of bliss which, in reality, had really only been a few seconds but they were a few seconds he would never live down. He cared for her; he cared for her more than he cared for anything else in this world and it was in this moment he realized just how dear to her he was.

As they pulled apart and his world stopped swimming he began to realize just what he had done and the typical Wheatley came back to bite him, causing his cheeks to glow a bright pink and his back to straighten out. He was a deer caught in headlights, and the coy look he received from Chell wasn't helping.  
"I—I um I—I am so sorry I don't know what came over me it—I was just so cold and the key just—it just made me think that um—and I mean the necklace so—I—"

"Oh, I knew there was something."  
The two had turned to look at the older woman, a broad smile on her face as she peeked her head in from the living room. Chell seemed momentarily mortified, but she knew Adeline meant no harm. Even as she wagged a finger and returned to her seat, muttering triumphantly.

"I always know when there's something."

And with that, the pair had followed behind.

They had stayed for a few hours; talking, eating desserts and watching some holiday specials. The final part was the one that shocked the elder couple the most; they were convinced Wheatley had been raised in some form of cult for the very fact he'd never seen a Christmas special in his entire life. Chell swore they would catch one of them when they returned home because it was one of the very few she remembered from her youth; it was one of the very few things she had remembered period. They had departed when the sun began to set and when walking home had become somewhat of an issue; snow covered the sidewalks and refused to let up, but Wheatley was still admiring the quantity. When they had finally reached the homestead, he had proudly stated he would be the one to open the door. Once inside they changed out of their wet clothes and into pajamas and they sat themselves down on the couch, where Chell began flipping through the channels. As she did so he managed to catch a glimpse of the necklace still around her neck and a smile graced him once more.

"Here." He was shaken by her voice and realized that he'd been staring again and was certainly happy she hadn't noticed.

His gaze turned to meet with the screen and, more importantly, with a rather old looking movie.

"This is a Christmas Story. This channel plays it for 24 hours from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. I used to watch it with my grandfather when I was young. He loved this movie. I still do."

"What is it about?"

"Just—Christmas. A family around Christmas. It's funny but it's—I don't know. I just really like it."

This was odd for Chell; it wasn't often she was just laying her emotions out like that and she didn't know how she felt about it. Even Wheatley seemed kind of surprised, but he chose not to comment if he did. Instead, he had drawn his full attention on the movie and watched as it came into view of the toy store and watched the children with eager eyes gazing into the window of the store and fawning over the displays dancing in the case. After a few minutes into the movie he paid another glance at Chell and noticed how completely content she was, and it warmed his heart. He wasn't sure if she could ever be truly content, but this proved him wrong. His heart was leaping in his chest once more when a small hand wrapped itself around his own, and his gaze quickly reverted to the television. It wasn't long before he was sneaking another glance and saw the thin smile dancing across her face. Soon they were pressed together, her head resting against the nape of his neck as she seemingly drifted off into sleep. He didn't move—didn't even think about moving because the thought of disturbing her seemed like a sin.

Wheatley was happy—he was beyond happy. This was a life he had never thought he would be happy to lead; being stuck in a human's body seemed like the end but it wasn't. If anything, it was the beginning of something beautiful, and he wouldn't want to share it with anyone besides her.

"Merry Christmas, Wheatley."

He paused and paid her a one final glance and felt his heart swell with something he really wasn't accustomed to—but he was positive it was good, and he knew he wouldn't trade the feeling for anything in the world.

"Merry Christmas, Chell."


End file.
